


An Idiot, Named Heath

by Saasan



Series: If You Teach a Fish [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Baby Keef is Born, Bittersweet Ending, Canonical Character Death, Companion to If You Teach a Fish to Man, Demisexual!Krolia, Demisexuality, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Fishing, Gentle Love, MerMay, Mild Gore, mermaid au, written by a vegetarian who doesn't fish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-05 23:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18838762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saasan/pseuds/Saasan
Summary: The fishermen could read tomorrow’s weather from a cloud in today’s sky.  They knew that the dark snappers liked eel in spring and red trout in the fall, and that on the full moon they would eat hooks without any bait at all.  They knew tides and stars and a hundred secrets of the water--so, if they said there were mermaids, there were probably mermaids.  That did not, however, sufficiently prepare Heath to find one on his beach.





	1. What do Mermaids Eat?

**Author's Note:**

> “Caught fish are never on tender hooks.”  
> ― Anthony T. Hincks
> 
>  
> 
> “Tell us the one about the mermaid again," said Dree. "That one's so heart-breaking, it must be real.”  
> ― Christina Soontornvat

The fishermen could read tomorrow’s weather from a cloud in today’s sky.  They knew that the dark snappers liked eel in spring and red trout in the fall, and that on the full moon they would eat hooks without any bait at all.  They knew tides and stars and a hundred secrets of the water--so, if they said there were mermaids, there were probably mermaids.  That did not, however, sufficiently prepare Heath to find one on his beach.  

 

She was lying on her side on the farthest end of the cove and each breath she took made dark blood ooze from a jagged wound that ran from her side well into her tail, and she gave him the fiercest glare imaginable.  Heath waved.

 

“Hello, pretty girl,” he called.  

 

The mermaid said nothing.

 

Heath hummed and went back to digging for clams.  There was only a small portion of beach on his little island that suited the mollusks, so it was a rare day that he treated himself to disturbing their population.  It had seemed like a special morning from the moment he woke up, so he’d decided to trek round to the far side of his island to dig up his lunch, and that was how he’d discovered the glowering woman.

 

She didn’t seem likely to talk.  

 

Heath found a cluster of likely looking holes and stomped once.  Several small jets of water indicated that yes--these were live clams--and he set to digging.  It was hard work, digging for clams.  He never quite had the angle to get under them fast enough, so he inevitable had to dig deeper to chase them as they burrowed down.  The ones he got, he dropped into his bucket.  They splashed in the thin layer of salt water he’d provided.

 

Every so often, he glanced up.  The mermaid was still glaring at him.

 

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

 

She said nothing.

 

It was quite possible she didn’t understand him at all, Heath reflected, but she was in no condition to leave the beach, so he dug some extra clams for her, just in case.  

 

He topped off the bucket with more seawater before heading back to his cabin.  There was plenty of time for the clams to clean out their sand before he was ready for them.  Today was his baking day, among other on-shore chores, which meant he wasn't going to be out on the boat, so he could amble as slowly as he liked.  Still, the poor mermaid preyed on his mind.  Perhaps he could go a little faster.

 

Once the bread was in the oven, Heath tapped open the clams with a knife and dropped them in a mixture of cornmeal, pepper, and spices.  He coated each piece and then fried them in butter.  It wasn't until he had the last piece out and cooling that it occurred to him that the mermaid might have preferred the clams raw.  Oh well.  He could always go digging for some more later, if she needed.

 

Heath wrapped fresh bread, dried fruit, and some cheese in one towel and the fried clams in the another and set out for his mid-morning picnic.  

 

The mermaid was still there (and still glaring).

 

“Hello again, pretty girl,” he said.  He stopped at a respectful distance before sitting down and opening up his towels.  From the corner of his eye, he could see her sniffing the air.  Good.

 

He ate his food without offering her any, wanting to let her see it was safe, first.  He casually mentioned the weather once and a particular loud gull twice.  It was probably a bit insulting, since he knew he was more or less treating her like a frightened animal, but by the time he was finished eating, she looked more curious than scared.  A win.

 

Heath stood up and brushed off his pants.

 

“The rest is for you,” he said with a smile.  He left the food on a towel and walked away without looking back.  

 

~*~*~

 

Krolia’s only piece of luck since the last moon’s turn was that the beach she’d taken refugee on belonged to an idiot.  She never would have wormed her way up that particular beach if she’d known he lived on the other side of the island, of course, but an idiot was about the best she could hope for in a human, so the situation was not terrible.

 

Yet.

 

She watched the human tromp away, a little amused and a little annoyed that he had left food for her behind.  She was nobody’s pet to tame.  Also, and more importantly, she couldn’t move on land, and the idiot had left it well out of reach.  A small part her appreciated that, even though she was heavily injured, he was treating her with caution, but mostly it was annoying that he had put the food at a very taunting range: close enough to smell, too far to squirm to.

 

She closed her eyes and considered her situation.  Despite her injuries, she wasn't afraid of a single, unarmed human, but he could easily come back with reinforcements.  However, that was a hypothetical, while there was the very real fact of makako sharks just outside the bay, so the shore remained her safest option.  She sighed deeply.  Maybe she should try for the food. 

 

Krolia attempted a small wriggle and was treated to white-hot pain searing down her side.  The wound was not terribly deep, but it was long, and even tiny movements were near agony.  Now that the adrenaline had worn off, she simply couldn’t force herself to move that far.  She might have managed to _swim_ a little ways--it being easier to move in water than on the beach--but the sharks were far too close.  She was stuck.

 

Cautiously, she inspected the wound with her hand, testing the rating of bleeding.  She’d survive, provided the human left her alone--or, better still, left food where she could reach it--and provided she didn’t get an infection.

 

Still hurt, though.

 

Not that the whole thing wasn't her own foolishness coming back to bite her in the tail, she thought with a sigh.  Every year, there were fewer blue-tipped turtles, and curiosity had finally sent her closer to shore to investigate.  What she discovered disgusted her: the humans were hunting them, taking far more than they could ever eat.  Furious at the flagrant display of greed, she’d attacked the first lone fisherman she found, and naturally he happened to have a spear.  She’d gotten a good swipe of her claws across his arm, though.  There was some satisfaction in that.

 

Worn out from her injury and the long swim she’d taken to put distance between herself and the human, Krolia closed her eyes and fell asleep.

 

~*~*~

 

Heath frowned.  The mermaid hadn’t eaten.  He considered moving the food closer, or offering her something else, but she was asleep now, and he didn’t think it wise to wake her.  Poor thing needed her rest, and so long as she was sleeping, she wasn't in pain.  He left quietly, intent on returning later with a different offering.

 

It was late afternoon now, and as he often did, Heath sailed to the nearby town of Corpus, intent on having a smoke in _The Broken Rudder_ and on soaking in the local gossip.  As he suspected, there was talk of mermaids.

 

“Impressive scratches, but there ain’t no such thing as mermaids,” Old Bill drawled.  “Not in these parts, anyway.”

 

Henry McCullin was incised.  “Then what leapt at me with a woman’s face and fish’s tail?” he growled, displaying his injured arm meaningfully.

 

“A spurned lover,” Gary suggested with a laugh.  “You’ve always gone for the crazy ones, McCullin.”

 

There were hoots of agreement from around the bar, and Henry scowled.  

 

“I know what I saw,” he said stubbornly.  “She was purple as poison and mean as hell.  I was lucky I had my shark spear with me.”

 

“Now you’re tellin’ us you saw _and fought_ a mermaid?  You’re too wild, McCullin,” Red Tom snorted.  “You shoulda just said she beckoned you from a rock and when you tried to kiss her, she swam away.  At least keep with the usual stories.”

 

“I know what I saw,” Henry repeated, eyes flashing.

 

“What do you think, Lander?” Gary asked.  “You think McCullin’s finally lost it?”

 

Heath took a slow drag on his pipe.  He’d been fishing with these men for 20 years and they still thought of him as a lander.  He didn’t mind.  It would probably be his name with them until the day he died, and there was something nice about them remembering he came from inland.

 

“I was wondering,” he said after puffing out a ring, “what mermaids eat.”

 

Some of the men laughed and a few others gave him puzzled looks.

 

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Henry glowered.  

 

Heath shrugged.  “Just don’t see why a mermaid would attack you, is all.  Never heard of them eating humans, just singing to ‘em.”

 

“That’s syrens,” someone said, and the conversation devolved into a heated but brief debate on the nature and habits of various sea beauties.  

 

“Mermaids _and_ syrens kill men, just a matter of how,” Old Bill said, “but I’ve never seen either, and neither has anyone here.”

 

Henry probably would have throttled anyone else if they’d said it, but Old Bill was too respected for even Henry’s temper.  He sulked instead.

 

“Don’t go saying I didn’t warn you,” Henry huffed.  “There’s a mermaid in these waters, and she’s vicious.”

 

 _Actually, she’s not in the water; she’s on a beach_ , Heath thought, but he kept it to himself.  No reason to invite the entire bar to his island, and besides--he hadn’t heard her side of the story.

 

~*~*~

 

The mermaid was awake again when Heath got home.  She watched him suspiciously, but otherwise didn’t strike him as aggressive.

 

“Hello, pretty girl,” he called out.  “Clams not to your liking?  No matter.  I brought fish this time.”  He walked closer, keeping his movements slow and careful, not wanting to startle her.  “I suppose it makes sense, you not liking clams.  I reckon mermaids don’t have much call to dig on the shore.”

 

The mermaid still hadn’t moved, but that might just be because she was injured, Heath reflected.  Her claws looked sharp enough to cause quite a bit of damage, and Henry McCullin’s story seemed to be on the mark: claw wound, spear wound, purple mermaid.  The question remained _why_ , but Heath wasn't altogether certain that was any of his business.  

 

He stopped his approach once he reached the towel he’d left that morning, still full of his offerings.  “I’ll toss this one to you,” he said, making a few exaggerated throwing motions before tossing the fish significantly closer to the mermaid.  “Hope you don’t mind it’s dried and smoked.  I didn’t go fishing today, so I don’t have anything fresh.  I’m out on the boat tomorrow, though.”

 

He waited, but the mermaid didn’t move.  He shrugged and took the towel to the water’s edge and shook out the contents.  The crabs would appreciate it, even if the mermaid didn’t.

 

“See you tomorrow, pretty girl,” he said, and left.

 

~*~*~

 

“Dried and smoked” was what the human had said.  “Ruined a perfectly good fish” is what Krolia would have called it, but she ate it anyway.

 

~*~*~

 

Heath had a good catch.  That was the luck of treating kindly the stranger on his land, he figured.  It was the right thing to do, after all.  But, maybe it wasn't completely from pure goodwill that he helped the mermaid--didn’t hurt at all that she was pretty.  He wondered idly if all mermaids were pretty, or if he’d gotten lucky there, too. 

 

“Hello again, pretty girl.  I suppose the fish suited you better,” he called out as he walked down his beach,  noting that she’d eaten his second offering.   “These two are fresh.”

 

He tossed his latest feeding attempt to the mermaid and they thudded to the ground, a little out of reach, but close enough that he wasn't worried.  He sat down, facing the sea, and pulled out his own meal.

 

“Heard in town last night that you cut up Henry McCullin,” he said by way of conversation.  “I suspect he deserved it, but maybe not.  You definitely scared him.”  He could see out of the corner of his eye that mermaid had tensed up.  “Don’t worry.  I didn’t tell them you’re here.  Not sure anyone believe him anyway.”

 

He ate in silence, enjoying the breeze and the sunlight.  He noted that the mermaid had a lot of difficulty reaching the fish, but she ate them, and that was something.  He’d need to get better at throwing, though.

 

“Don’t suppose you need to drink water, do you?  I guess you can get to that if you really need to,” Heath said.  He glanced over at the mermaid and gave her a quick, evaluating look.  “Your skin doesn’t look so good.  Maybe you can’t get to the water?  Well, I don’t think you’d like it much if I tried to haul you anywhere.  I guess feeding you will have to be enough for now,” he added with a sigh.  

 

Heath stood up and stretched.  He had chores to get to, and the mermaid probably didn’t want his company anyway.  He wouldn’t be surprised if his presence made her nervous, and that couldn’t be good for her healing.

 

“My name’s Heath, by the by,” he offered as he brushed the sand from his pants.  He chuckled.  “You probably don’t understand a word I’m saying, do you?”  He shook his head, still laughing at himself, and left.

 

~*~*~

 

There really was only the one explanation for the human: he was an idiot.  He knew she was dangerous and attacked another human in his pod, but he kept coming back to feed her anyway.  An idiot, named Heath.

 

She scratched absently at her skin.  Being on shore this long was not good for her, and she contemplated trying to get back in the water for a little while.  She could stay in the shallows, get her skin refreshed and take a long drink... But her wound was still open.  Even staying in the safety of the cove, her blood would alert every shark within leagues that she was still here, still injured.  

 

Krolia huffed out a frustrated sigh.  Maybe she could ask the human for help.  That couldn’t be wise, though.  He might let slip useful information if he didn’t think she understood him.  Still, he wasn't hostile...  Perhaps.  Perhaps. 

 

~*~*~

 

The following day was hot, muggy, and miserable.  Krolia had never spent more than an hour out of the water in her life, and here she was, going on three days, and her skin screamed constant protests.  She couldn’t sleep; she couldn’t move; she could barely keep her eyes open to see.

 

She heard the crunch of sand, indicated Heath’s approach.  He made a noise of distress when he saw her.

 

“You’re not looking so good, pretty girl,” he said, getting closer than he ever had before.  He tossed his offering of fish within arm’s range of her.  “I...I think I better....”

 

Krolia didn’t know if he said more or if she simply didn’t hear it.

 

“Please,” she whispered, but he was gone.

 

~*~*~

 

Heath mentally cursed himself as he dragged the heavy tarp behind him.  He should have given the poor girl a bucket of water or at least checked on her this morning.  Her skin had been such a beautiful lavender and her scales a deep wine, but now her skin was inflamed and peeling and her scales were dull.  Her eyes had been glassy, too.  He’d bet his hide she was suffering from heatstroke, or whatever the mermaid equivalent was.  Thank the winds he had a spare sail he could use to give her some shade.

 

The mermaid’s eyes fluttered open as he approached, but that was the only acknowledgement she made.  

 

“Sorry, pretty girl.  I should have known better,” he said, depositing his pile of goods.  He snatched up a bucket and hurried to the water, filling and bringing it to her.  “I hope you drink sea water.”

 

The mermaid gave what might have been a faint nod--which was very encouraging--and she permitted him to approach her without protest.  When he brought the bucket to her lips, she lapped at the water with her pink tongue, testing it out, before drinking deep with messy, gasping gulps.

 

Guilt twinged in Heath’s heart.  This wasn't his fault, of course, but the poor thing was suffering and he could have done better.

 

“Sorry, pretty girl,” he said again.  “I’ll have some shade for you in a jiffy.”

 

The mermaid watched him warily as he worked.  It was awkward to set up the small shelter around her, but he didn’t think she’d let him touch her to move her, so that was that.  A few poles and some rope later and he had a modest lean to made up, one side covered with tarp and the other open to the air.

 

“It’ll keep the sun off you in the afternoon,” he said, but it was something of a futile effort.  The mermaid was so much bigger than he’d realized!  Her tail was at least twice as long as he was tall, and the majority of it was left not covered by the shelter.  “Sorry,” he said again, rubbing at the back of his neck.  “Um, let me refill your bucket.”

 

When he brought it back she dipped her fingers in the sea water and then sprinkled it over her skin.  She repeated the action, her movements sluggish, and Heath carefully took over her duty, pouring little rivulets of water over her angry skin.  He tried to pour a little over her wound to clean it out but she hissed and flinched at the touch.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” he murmured.  “You’re too nice a girl, putting up with a clumsy oaf like me.”  

 

He refilled her bucket before promising to return with more fish.  The mermaid closed her eyes, and Heath would have sworn she nodded.

 

~*~*~

 

She hadn’t woken up when he’d left the fish, but Heath thought it best he let her sleep.  The poor girl looked absolutely miserable, and he mentally kicked himself once again for not checking on her sooner.

 

Heath set about mending his nets, his chores not having the decency to wait for convenient moments, such as when there wasn't a sick mermaid on the other side of his island.  Ah well.  At least he had something interesting to think about to help pass the time--and the mermaid was incredibly interesting.

 

She really was a very pretty girl, Heath reflected.  She had long, thick hair that he would have loved to comb out for her, and her face had sharp but regal angles.  She would have been a proper lady, no doubt, if she’d been born a human.  He blushed a little, remembering her breasts.  He’d tried to be a gentleman and keep his eyes to himself, but she was completely unconscious of her nudity and made no effort to hide anything.  They were very lovely, her breasts.  Her nipples were a dark and eye-catching purple.  Heath shifted a little to adjust himself and tried to think on other subjects.

 

Had he been feeding her enough?  She was quite a bit larger than a human, what with her tail.  He’d bring her something extra in the morning. 

 

The light now being too low for work and, not willing to waste a candle, Heath concluded it was the end of his day, and he went to bed.  He dreamed of dark hair and distressed eyes, and worked all night in his sleep to bringing a drowning girl fresh water.

 

~*~*~

 

Krolia was puzzled.  It was one thing for the human to bring her extra fish in sympathy, but to build her a shelter and soothe her skin with water was something else entirely.  Humans, to her knowledge, were not so unconditionally selfless.  Perhaps the man, Heath, had damaged his head at some point.  When he came the next morning, she watched him suspiciously, trying to divine a motive.

 

“Good morning, pretty girl,” he said.  “I hope you slept well.  I’ve got three fish this morning.  I’m afraid they’re smoked again, but if my catch is good, I’ll bring you fresh things this evening.  Oh--let me refill your bucket.”

 

Once again, the human poured water over her skin, working without complaint despite the many trips he made to the ocean and back up the beach.  Instead, _he_ apologized to _her_ for how long it was taking him.

 

He really had to be an idiot.

 

He spoke as he worked, mostly about inconsequential things, like how nice the sunrise was that morning and how he’d seen whale spouts the day before.  She wondered again if he knew she understood his language, or if he simply liked talking.  Perhaps all humans talked this much. 

 

“What I ought to do,” he said, “is get you some towels.  You can soak ‘em and leave ‘em on your skin so it stays moist longer.”  He nodded to himself, apparently not needing her response. 

 

“Well,” he said when he was finished, “I need to get sailing.  I’ll be back in the evening.” 

 

He refilled her bucket a final time and left, and Krolia was no closer to understanding him than when he’d first come.

 

~*~*~

 

Heath lay back in his boat, hands behind his head, smoking his pipe and staring at the sky through heavy lids.  He wasn't used to having company, or to talking much when he did, and for all he knew the mermaid didn’t understand a word of it, but he hoped his chatter helped distract her from the pain of her angry skin.  Not that he had much to say, of course, but the poor girl was clearly still miserable.  Her side didn’t look good, either.  Perhaps she’d let him sew it up.  Perhaps he’d get a face full of claws for his trouble.

 

Might as well try.

 

~*~*~

 

The human had cheerfully informed her it was a “good day”, which appeared to mean extra fish.  There were four, and they were much better than the “smoked” things he’d left in the morning.  He’d also brought towels.  Those were excellent--holding the water and soothing her skin far more than drips from the bucket.  She made a contented noise and the human looked very pleased with himself.  He laughed at the unimpressed look she gave him in turn.

 

“I know, I know,” he said, “but I’ve been worried about you, pretty girl.  Let a man be a little proud of a success.”

 

She snorted and he laughed again.

 

They ate together and Krolia found it pleasant.  The man’s meal had various things she did not recognize (and no raw fish) and when he noticed her looking, he offered her pieces.  The only item she found interesting was something he called an apple.

 

“It’s much better fresh,” he said.  “It’s crisp and juicy at the same time.”

 

Crisp and juicy?  The nearest thing Krolia could come up with was eating a cuttlefish’s spine along with the rest of the rest of it.  It didn’t sound pleasant. 

 

“So,” he said, clearing his throat.  “I don’t know if you understand me, or trust me, or anything, but I think I can help your wound some.”

 

Krolia watched as the poor man stumbled over himself, trying to mime out that he wanted to stitch up her wound.  It was a good idea, and it’s what she would have done had she had the supplies for it, but she did not trust him _that_ much.  She allowed him to pour a harsh liquid over the wound--to clean it out, he explained--but when he attempted to press the needle into her flesh, she hissed and smacked his hand away.  

 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!  I know it hurts,” he rambled.  

 

She ignored him and began to stitch the wound herself.

 

“My god.  You’re really clever, aren’t you?” he said in quiet disbelief.  “Did you already know how to do that?  How much do you understand me?”

 

Krolia kept ignoring him and mentally berated herself for letting him see her do this.  Before, he’d treated as if she were intelligent but still no more than a beast.  She wasn't sure if it was wise to correct that supposition.

 

“Ah, let me help a little--”

 

The human gently but firmly placed his hands on her side, applying pressure and forcing the edges of her wound closer together, making the stitching easier.  They worked in silence, the human for once forgoing his usual chatter.  When she’d finished, Krolia clipped the thread and handed back the excess and the needle.

 

“Very nicely done,” Heath smiled.  “Next time I get cut up, I know who I want to doctor me.”

 

Korlia did not know the term “doctor”, but she recognized the sentiment as a compliment.  After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded.  He knew she understood his language now--at least to some extent--but he’d earned that level of trust.  She could nod for him every now and then, if she felt like it.

 

Unwilling to have a conversation (as Heath would almost certainly have questions he’d expect answers to), Krolia lay down in the sand and closed her eyes.  She had a good excuse not to talk. Stitching up the wound had been tiring, after all, and her side was sharp with renewed pain.  Heath got the hint and gathered up his things.

 

“You rest well, pretty girl.  You’ve earned it,” he said softly.  

 

She opened her eyes in thin slits to watch him leave.  An idiot human, probably, but a nice one.

 

~*~*~

 

Heath refrained from asking questions, and it was very hard to do.  He wanted to know if she always lived in the nearby waves, or if she was just passing through.  He wanted to know what fish she liked best and if the bread he fed was good or if she was humoring him--or just that hungry to begin with.  He also wanted to know why she’d scratched Henry McCullin, but like as not the man deserved it, and it really wasn't his business. 

 

Instead of asking, he went on talking.  The mermaid hadn’t been interested in telling him anything before, so he didn’t see why she’d want to now.  She could always interrupt him if she felt like it.

 

“I’ve been out here near 20 years and I’m still not much good with these things,” he told her.  He was sitting cross legged in the sand outside her tent, fixing a crab trap.  “I farmed before, but I heard the ocean was beautiful and I liked the thought of always having water handy.  Being dependent on the rain for everything got a bit iffy, sometimes.  But wouldn’t you know it--out here there’s too much water if anything, and you can’t even drink it,” he laughed.

 

The mermaid was looking better by the day, now that her skin was healing and her wound was patched.  He wondered how much longer she would stay, but he was glad she was there for now.  Her tail was more flexible than he’d first realized--not so much as a snake or eel, but far more than a shark or dolphin--and she’d pulled it up into the tent at some point.  The very tip of it twitched sometimes.  He figured it was a sign of interest, since she always seemed to be listening when it happened.  Right now, she was paying special attention to the crab trap, so he angled himself better.

 

“Crabs crawl in here and then can’t crawl out again,” he explained.  “Sometimes something larger comes along and rips ‘em out, though.  Then I hafta patch things up.  It’s not hard work, but I try to spare using extra nets.  That’s why I just tie up split ends where I can.”

 

She tilted her head and leaned forward a little, watching the work of his fingers.  Heath smiled.

 

“Did you want to try?” he asked, offering the trap to her.

 

The mermaid’s lovely eyes sprang open in surprise.  She looked between him and the trap several times, cautiously.

 

“It’s not too hard, once you get the hang of it,” he told her.  “You start by holding two ends like this, and then pull one over and back under, and then flip ‘em and do the opposite.” He demonstrated the various steps.  “Then you pull it tight.  See?  All done.”

 

He offered the trap again and this time she took it.  He corrected her twice, but she managed it well. 

 

“Perfect,” he said with a smile.  “Want to learn another?”

 

He spent the rest of the evening teaching her knots.  She smiled when they were done, and something stuck in his chest.

 

She had a _gorgeous_ smile.

 

“Well, pretty girl,” Heath said, his mouth a little too dry, “I need to get going.  I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

It was the first time he’d phrased it as a question.  It was also the first time she’d nodded. 

 

“Sleep well,” he said, and his grin lasted him all the way home.

 

~*~*~

 

The mermaid only stayed for three more days, but they were pleasant ones.  Heath made some excuses to be on the beach more often.  The mermaid didn’t seem to mind.

 

Each night he asked her if she’d be there in the morning, and she always nodded, until the third day.  She hesitated. 

 

“How about I help you to the water in the morning, then, if you’re not sure?” he asked gently.  

 

She nodded, and that was that.

 

~*~*~

 

Krolia could have left sooner, but there was no harm in taking a little extra time to heal.  The beach was quiet and secluded, and the company was good--or at least it was interesting, and that was pretty near the same thing.

 

Heath was cheerful enough as he helped her out to the waves, but she could tell he was a little sad all the same.  She understood.  It was impossible not to form a bond after being responsible for someone.  How could you _not_ help but wonder if they were doing okay?  Perhaps she’d bring him a fish sometime, just to say thank you.

 

It was glorious being back in the water.  She dove eagerly away, overjoyed to have a chance to stretch and move the way nature intended.  She was nearly out of the bay before she stopped herself.

 

She breached the surface and looked back to the shore.  Heath was still there, hands in his pockets.  He was smiling.

 

“Krolia,” she called out to him.

 

He startled visibly.  “What?” he called back.

 

“My name is Krolia,” she said.  

 

Heath’s smile was full of teeth and sun and laughter then, and she returned his wave before she left.

 

~*~*~

 

Heath hummed to himself as he fished.  It was not a day for nets, he’d decided, so he had a few lines up and not much to do but lie in the sun and smoke and think.  It was a good day. 

 

It had been several weeks since Krolia had left, and he figured by now she’d made it back to wherever she was from, but that just brought up the question of why she’d been near his island in the first place.  He’d posed the question, once, to his fellow patrons of _The Broken Rudder_ , and the general consensus was that she’d heard how ugly Henry McCullin was and had to see it for herself.  That had put Henry in a foul mood, and he’d said if they didn’t believe him in the first place, they certainly didn’t need to tease him over it.  Heath pointed out he’d been with them with them for two decades and they still teased _him_ over being from “deep shore”, so Henry might as well get comfortable with it.

 

Heath smiled at the memory.  Without a factual reason for the mermaid’s appearance, the legendary status of Henry McCullin’s ugly mug was a sufficient and humorous substitute.  

 

A line tugged and Heath sat up, working on tiring out his catch and reeling it in.  It was a fair-sized snapper, and that seemed as good a reason as any to call it a day.  He considered sailing home, but his crab traps had been out since yesterday, and he ought to check.  

 

He spotted his bobbers and got over to them.  The first pot had a measly two crabs, and they were quite small, so he tossed them back.  The second pot was filled to bursting with the largest crabs he’d ever seen, and it had a long piece of seaweed tied in a very neat bowline knot around its tether.  

 

Heath burst out in a peal of bright laughter.  “Thank you, pretty girl!” he called out to the wind.  

 

The wind did not answer, but Heath didn’t mind, and he had crab stew for supper.

 

~*~*~

 

After that, Heath had roughly one Krolia-boosted catch a week.  Mostly it was for crabs--which suited him fine; he was very fond of crab stew--but sometimes his hooks would fill almost at once, and there would be seaweeds knots on the line.  He always called out his thanks, and he wondered a little why the mermaid never popped up to say hello.  Perhaps she was shy.  Perhaps she simply wanted to pay him back.  Either, he was glad for the extra fish and for the reminder that Krolia was still out there--his own little sea goddess.

 

~*~*~

 

It was almost autumn the first time Krolia came by in person, and Heath was so shocked to see her suddenly rise from the waves that he nearly tumbled backwards into the water.

 

“Pretty girl,” he gasped, sprawled awkwardly in the bottom of his boat.

 

Her face, previously arranged into a smile of greeting, sank into a frown.

 

“What’s the matter?” he asked, scrambling into a more dignified position.

 

“You don’t remember,” she said.

 

It took Heath a few seconds to hazard a guess as to what he might have forgotten.  “Your name?”

 

She nodded, still frowning.

 

“It’s Krolia,” he said with a grin.  “I just got used to calling you ‘pretty girl’.”

 

Slowly, her face smoothed back into a smile, and her eyes were as bright and lovely as ever.  She settled her arms comfortable on the edge of his boat, propped up in place, tail still in the water.  “Are you a bad fisherman?” she asked.

 

Stunned, Heath sank back on his haunches.  “I _hope_ not,” he sputtered.  “I’m no prize-winner, but I get by.”

 

Krolia tilted her head, considering this information.  “Then why do you fish every day?” she asked.

 

“For supplies and food,” he said.  “I can’t make everything I need, so I gotta trade for it.”

 

That answered satisfied her, and she nodded twice before unfolding her arms.

 

“Wait!” Heath said, reaching out for her.  She flinched back in alarm and he immediately snatched back his hand.  “Sorry, sorry.  Didn’t mean to startle you.  Just--didn’t want you to disappear so quick, is all.”

 

Krolia eyed his hands, so Heath kept them raised placatingly, and eventually she resettled.  

 

“Is your side alright now?” Heath asked.

 

“It healed,” she stated with a short nod.

 

“That’s good to hear,” Heath said.  He grinned at her and she smiled back, and Heath was pretty sure he should come up with something else to say, but if the silence didn’t bother the mermaid, then that was alright.

 

“I suppose I was a pitiful creature to you, mm?  Fishing everyday, even after you generously caught me all those crabs?” he asked, teasing.

 

There was something like a blush on Krolia’s cheeks, and she stuck her chin a little higher.  “I did wonder.”

 

“Well, I won’t lie: you made my life a good piece easier these past two months.  I got a new sail and some coin saved up for winter now.  I thank you for that,” he said.  “I can even come by a fresh apple or two, if you happen to be about tomorrow.”

 

The small blush stayed on Krolia’s cheeks and she nodded again.  “I will happen to be about tomorrow.”

 

“Glad to hear it,” Heath said.  

 

“Goodbye, Heath,” Krolia said, nodding once again, and pushed off his boat and down into the waves.

 

“Goodbye, pretty girl,” he smiled.

 

~*~*~

 

Heath had been right: fresh apples were crisp and juicy at the same time.  Krolia licked the spare juice as it ran down her arm, savoring the taste.

 

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Heath said.  He looked quite proud of himself.

 

“I like it,” Krolia agreed neutrally.  He might be a kind human, but that was no reason to give him a big head.

 

Heath didn’t seem bothered, though.  He just smiled as he sat back in his boat, contentedly munching on his own apple.  

 

“Are all fishermen like you?  Taking more than they can eat, so they can trade?”

 

“Everyone around here, at least.  Can’t make yourself a lamp or cloth or things like that, not without training.  And some things I like to eat don’t grow here, so I gotta trade for that, too.  Most humans trade for things, but sometimes you trade your time or service instead of an item,” Heath explained.  “Back when I was a boy, I helped my family grow plants to eat.  If I’d wanted fish, I would have had to trade for it.”

 

“And now?” Krolia asked.  “Your family--do they still grow plants?”

 

“Last that I knew of,” Heath said.  “I haven’t seen them since I left, and I can’t write, but sometimes I trade in town for someone to write a letter, and then they’ll trade to have someone write back.  We keep in touch that way.”

 

That sounded nice, but a little sad.  The human had said before that he’d been at the ocean for 20 years.  Krolia would not like to go 20 years without seeing her brothers. 

 

“Do you have a mate?” she asked.  She could not imagine going so long without seeing a _mate_ , and humans lived shorter lives.  Surely they would see a mate more frequently!

 

“Never found the right gal, I guess,” Heath said, shrugging his shoulders.

 

Krolia wasn't sure why, but she liked that answer.  Why would she be glad the human didn’t have a mate?  He was kind.  He deserved one. 

 

(He _needed_ one--he was still an idiot.)

 

“What about you?” he asked, sitting up.  “Do you have a family, or a mate?”

 

“I have three brothers.  I do not have a mate.” 

 

For some reason, she wanted to explain further, but was not sure what she would say, so she stayed silent.  

 

“So do mer folk live together in groups?  Do they mate for life?” Heath asked.  He was growing increasingly interested.

 

Krolia did her best to sketch out the basics of mer society, and she asked Heath questions about humans that he answered in turn.  They traded questions until the sun was low in the sky.

 

“I suppose it’s about time for me to be going,” Heath said, eyeing the sky regretfully.  He turned back to her.  “If you’re in the area again, pop up and say hi, yeah?”

 

Krolia knew she would.

 

~*~*~

 

Krolia could not have said for sure why she was still near and around Heath’s island.  It was late fall now, and she had long ago finished investigating anything she needed to in regards to the local fish.  Heath had answered her questions about the turtles--they were delicious, so many fisherman tried hard to catch them, because delicious food meant very good trading--and she wasn't happy about it, but there also wasn't anything she could do to improve the situation.  The turtles were calm and sweet, nibbling the grasses that grew in the sandy portions of the sea.  They harmed no one.  But, the humans took and took and Krolia knew the turtles would either die out or leave the area, and that was that.  So, with nothing to learn and nothing to do, why was she still here?  The answer, in part, was Heath. 

 

She liked Heath.  He was funny and kind and smiled whenever he saw her.  Unlike most humans, he was neither dangerous nor afraid, and he was patient with all her questions.  But, that wasn't enough for her to _stay_.  She’d more than paid back what she owed him, and while he was good company, there wasn't much to be gained by being friends with a human.  And yet, she stayed, and she stayed for him, and she did not know why.

 

Even more puzzling was the fact that she did not see him every day.  She could have, if she wanted to.  She knew which boat was his, and he returned to the same island every night, so she could have found him if she somehow missed on the sea.  But, it seemed like it would have been rude, or too much, or _something_ if she sought him out daily.  She saw him every third or fourth day, whenever she’d come up with a sufficiently interesting question.  Today she had a question, so she sought out Heath and, since his boat was alone, she approached.

 

“Hello,” she said, popping up out of the water.  

 

As usual, Heath was startled by her sudden appearance and, as usual, he broke into a wide grin.  “Hi, pretty girl,” he said.  “Glad to see you.  I got a question for you.”

 

Krolia raised her eyebrows and inclined her head, waiting.

 

“Where are your brothers?  Do they not live around here?  Back when you had your run in with Henry McCullin, no one else believed him.  People said there weren’t mermaids here, and some people don’t think mer folk exist at all.  Are you just visiting or something?”

 

(Krolia decided not to point out that this was more than one question.)

 

“They live several weeks to the north, as do I.  I am here temporarily.  There are no other mer here,” she said.  

 

“How long are you here for?” Heath asked.  He seemed a little sad, perhaps, but not distraught.  It was how Krolia felt, if she were being honest quite honest.  She did not wish to leave, perhaps, but she was far from unable to.

 

“I don’t know.  My kind does not make plans the way humans do, I think,” she said.  Perhaps it had to do with how often they had to hunt, and with how many things they had to gather and hold, but humans seemed to plan quite a bit.  Mers moved as they wished. 

 

“Maybe you’ll say goodbye before you go,” Heath said, a little hopeful.

 

Krolia smiled.  “Yes, I’ll say goodbye.”

 

Heath’s grin was back in full force, and Krolia had to admit that she liked making him smile.  It did wonderful things for his dark eyes and his teeth were a lovely contrast with his brown skin.  She liked it, she decided in that moment--the coloring of humans, and the coloring of Heath in particular.  Mers were far more interesting in their bright diversity, but Heath’s colors suited him, somehow.  There was something strong and solid in his browns.  It reminded her of sturdy cliffs or tall trees.  It was nice.

 

“So, no definite plans, but when about do you think you’ll be leaving?”

 

“Within the moon,” she said.  She wanted to be home before the worst of the winter storms.  But no--a moon was too soon.  That would mean she would only see Heath a dozen times  or less.  That was not enough. 

 

“I’ll come back,” Krolia said.  She hoped he didn’t ask her why.  She didn’t want to tell him her answer.

 

Heath didn’t ask, though--he just smiled, his eyes warm and bright in that way made her warm and bright, too.  Encouraged, she continued.

 

“I’ll be back with the white tuna,” she told him.

 

“I’m glad to hear it, pretty girl,” he grinned, and she grinned back.

 

It did not occur to her until hours later that she hadn't need an excuse to talk to him.

 

~*~*~

 

Heath didn’t fish as much in winter; no one did.  The waters were good but the weather was poor, and there was no better way to spend a storm than at _The Broken Rudder_.  Spirits had been low at the start of the evening, but someone had pulled out a fiddle and asked Old Bill for a tune, and there had been singing and dancing ever since.  Heath had taken a turn with Martha Jules, Samantha Ferguson, and Rosie Gunther, and he’d gone with June Elis twice.

 

Heath wasn't a slow man.  He knew when a woman was interested in making time with him, when she was wanting to make someone else, and when she just enjoyed his company.  Miss Rosie and Miss June were both in the foremost category.  They were lovely girls, all of them.  Perhaps a winter ago he’d have taken Miss June up on her request for a third dance, but now when he looked at her, he was reminded of eyes that were wild and yet gentle and lips that curved carefully into hesitant smiles.  He begged off on account of being tired and went to sit by Red Tom.

 

“Taking a breather?” Red Tom asked.

 

Heath nodded.  “I can sail all day but not dance for six songs.  That’s the shape of it.”

 

“Ay, that’s the true,” Red Tom laughed.  “Ladies put us to real shame with dancing, don’t they.”

 

Heath settled himself in his chair and pulled out his pipe.  He figured he might as well, being as he was finished with dancing for the evening.  He tamped down his tobacco and patted his pockets for matches. 

 

“Probably won’t see white tuna until May, will we,” Heath said as he finally found the appropriate pocket.

 

“I expect not, unless they come early,” Red Tom said.  “Why?  You got a hankering for white tuna?”

 

Heath pulled in a long breath through his pipe and puffed the smoke out slowly.  “Something like that,” he said, though it was a purple fish he missed, not a white one.  “Something like that.”

 

Late that evening, when he at last crawled into bed, it occurred to him that there might be something wrong with falling in love with a mermaid.  They weren’t human, after all.  Humans should be with humans.  But then, humans should live on dry land, and he spent his half his time over the water, and weren’t all fishermen a little bit in love with the sea in the first place?  

 

He fell asleep with a pretty girl on his mind and the feeling that the nicety of the details didn’t matter at all.

 

 


	2. How do Mermaids Kiss?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which summer returns and so does Krolia. Heath is very pleased, and we earn our explicit rating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “This creature was so enticing that he guessed he might be chasing after her forever if he didn’t change his approach.”  
> ― Tiffany Roberts
> 
>  
> 
> “A mermaid's heart is the most fragile thing in the sea.”  
> ― Emm Cole

It was April, and too early for white tuna.  Heath walked the shore and considered setting out a line for one anyway.  There had been a small storm the night before and, as he usually did after storms, Heath was walking the perimeter of his island, looking for anything interesting that might have washed up.  There hadn’t been anything of note yet, and he was nearly home when he spied a flash of purple shaped like a scale.  He darted forward.

 

An oyster shell.

 

Heath clicked his tongue at himself for getting excited over nothing as he smoothed the inner shell with his thumb.  It wasn't nearly as pretty as Krolia, but it was still a nice color, and the shape of the small shell was nice as well--more petal shaped than anything else.  

 

Heath snapped his fingers.  That’s what it was.  He’d been trying to think of what Krolia’s coloring reminded him of, and the petal shape did it: winecup poppies.  It had been 20 years since he’d seen the little flowers, but now that he made the connection, the similarities were obvious.

 

He smiled to himself and pocketed the shell.  It might not be May yet, but his pretty girl felt a little bit closer.

 

~*~*~

 

Krolia almost didn’t follow the school of white tuna as it made its way south.  Human lives were short, so time to them must feel different.  Who was to say if Heath would even remember her after a half dozen turns of the moon?  Perhaps humans had short memories to match their tiny lives.  But, before she could quite make up her mind not to, Krolia was following the school, second-guessing herself the whole time.

 

She needn’t have worried.

 

The moment she peaked above the waves and tentatively called out to his boat, Heath laughed in delight and launched himself into the water.

 

~*~*~

 

“Krolia!” Heath cried.  The mermaid’s eyes widened in shock as Heath leapt from his boat, and he laughed from pure joy.  He was still laughing when he surfaced and he had to spit out water before he could greet her properly.  “Hello, pretty girl,” he grinned, treading water next to her. 

 

The mermaid was spurred into action, and she moved next to him so she could steady him with her arms.

 

“Are you not able to swim?” she asked with a concerned frown.  “You swallowed water.”

 

“Nah, just got it in my mouth.  My lungs are fine,” Heath promised, still grinning.  “Mind if I hug you?”

 

They had never touched casually, but Heath figured this was a special occasion, and perhaps Krolia agreed, because the mermaid nodded her assent.  Heath pulled her close and sighed happily into her hair.

 

“Missed you, pretty girl,” he said.  

 

Krolia’s breath fluttered out through her gills, delicate and hesitant.   _Like lace_ , Heath thought, and as fierce and wild as the mermaid was, the image of lace still suited her.  She was sharp like a dagger and quiet like a thief, and yet she blushed when he held her, and she returned his embrace.

 

“I missed you, too,” she whispered.

 

~*~*~

 

Mers didn’t fall in love with humans, Krolia reminded herself as she stretched out on the sandy bottom, watching the play of light on the waves above her.  They didn’t fall in love with humans anymore than they did with dolphins, or turtles, or blades of grass, or the rocks on the shore.  They fell in love slowly, with fellow mers, and it was a fact she had known since she was a tiny pup.

 

(But.)

 

But she could still feel the ghost of Heath’s arms around her.  She could hear whispers of his breath and find traces of his warmth and she hoped she never forgot a second of the perfect, precious moments of being held by that kind, silly man.  

 

He had remembered her.  

 

He had missed her.

 

Krolia didn’t know if the pleasurable but painful tightness in her chest meant she was already in love, but she knew she would be soon.  She needed to leave, for the sake of her own health and safety.  Nothing good could come from a mermaid loving a human.

 

(But.)

 

She had only just arrived, and she could not leave without saying goodbye.  Perhaps she was overreacting, and perhaps not, but she did need to see him at least one more time.

 

~*~*~

 

Heath spent more time than was strictly gentlemanly thinking about the way Krolia’s breasts had felt, pushed up against his chest.  She’d hugged him back hard, too, and he could feel her nipples through his thin shirt.  Thank the winds his hips hadn’t been up against her or he might have embarrassed them both.  

 

God, she really was such a pretty girl.  And she’d come back, right on time, and it was probably too soon to hope to see her again--it having only been one day--but a man could hope if he wanted to.  So he hoped, and brought a little something with him on his boat when he set out on his daily sail.  He hoped through the morning and through the afternoon and on until he set his rudder homeward, and then he hoped some more.  He was all but to his dock when his hope was rewarded.

 

“Hello, Heath,” the mermaid called.  

 

“Hello, Krolia!” he called back.  “I’m right happy to see you.  I’ve been wanting to give you something.”

 

“Is it an apple?” Krolia asked, setting her arms on the side of the boat like usual.

 

“Nope, it’s a flower,” Heath smiled.  He pulled out a little collection of oyster shells he’d polished and bound with wire.  “Or I suppose it’s an imitation of a flower.  They’re called winecup poppies, and they remind me of you.  There were fields of them where I grew up.” 

 

Krolia took the offered flower and stared at it in confused wonder.  “Why did you make this?” she said, fingers delicately tracing the smoothed edge of a shell petal.

 

“Well, I can’t get you a real one without going back home, and I wanted you to see one,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.  Was it wrong to make her the flower?  Asking why he’d make it…  He licked his lips.  “I suppose it would make my parents awful happy if I went home, even if it was for a flower,” Heath laughed nervously.

 

Krolia snapped her attention back to him.  “You’re going back to your birth home?”  Her eyes were full of a kind of worry.

 

“I hadn’t planned on it, no,” he said.  “And if I did, I’d be sure to tell you goodbye before I went.  Besides, any poppy I picked would be dead and dry by the time I got back out here.”

 

“Humans plan things first,” Krolia said, more to herself than him.  “And...you’d come back, if you left?”

 

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” Heath said fondly.  “I won’t go leaving and making you miss me.”  It was meant to be a tease, but Krolia looked relieved, and it made his heart swell.  Krolia had missed him over the winter.  She would miss him if he left his island.  She cared for him, too.

 

Krolia started to give back the flower and Heath wrapped a hand around hers, gently pressing it back to her.

 

“It’s for you to keep, if you want it.  I don’t know if mermaids are sentimental about things, but… Well, I’m a human, so it’s only right to give the girl I like a flower,” he said.  Krolia looked confused.  Perhaps it was a wasted confession, but Heath was glad he’d said it all the same.  He wasn't the sort to burst out the secrets of his heart, but Krolia was special, and he wanted her to know.

 

“I don’t have anything to trade right now,” she said, hesitating.

 

“You can give me things if you want to,” Heath said, “but I meant it as a gift.  If you don’t want it, you’re not obliged to keep it, though.”  Did mermaids keep things?  He didn’t know.  It’s not like they wore clothes or built buildings.

 

“A gift,” Krolia said.  She stared at the flower.  “A gift,” she repeated, and she blushed as she pulled it to closer.  “Yes.  I want to keep it.”  Her eyes darted between Heath and flower several times before she shyly held his gaze.

 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

 

Heath looked into the wild, beautiful eyes in front of him and knew he was irreparably lost on this girl.

 

“You’re welcome,” he said warmly, and he knew he would see her again tomorrow.

 

~*~*~

 

If she hadn’t been in love before, she certainly was now.  Her cheeks were burning with a happy blush and her heart was thundering and skipping in her chest and she couldn’t stop smiling.  She’d had a moment of terror at the thought of Heath leaving her and going inland, for that was a place she could not follow, and it was one thing for her to chose to leave, but it was entirely another to be the one left behind.  He’d seen her fear and reassured her, and that was almost as good as the gift itself.  A gift.  Heath had given her a gift. 

 

Krolia had been given only one other gift in her lifetime--a beautiful knife passed down by her mother--and it was safely hidden in the home cave she shared with her brothers.  She would have to hide the flower in the temporary crevice she’d taken up residence in.  It was not ideal, but it would do. 

 

She nestled the flower in a protective wrap of seaweed, surrounded it with sand, and placed a large rock on top for good measure, and then had to fight the immediate urge to unbury it and look at it again.  It was more important that it was _safe_ , she reminded herself, and then forced herself to swim away.

 

A gift.  Heath had given her a gift!  She didn’t know if he loved her, too, but she thought he wasn't far off from it--not if he was giving _gifts_ , gifts that he had made while thinking of her when she was gone and he had no real guarantees that she would return.  He had thought of her, and he had trusted, and that was halfway to love right there.

 

She swam aimlessly, a happy smile on her face and a happy tune in her mouth.  She was too restless to sleep, so she swam until morning, lazily circling the nearby islands and exploring the ocean floor.

 

It was nearly time for her to seek out Heath when she noticed an unhappy creature, struggling against a rope--a blue-tipped turtle.  The poor thing was making no progress, its flippers waving uselessly.  Krolia frowned.  The turtle was prey for the humans, and predators ate prey to survive.  That was how the ocean worked and such things did not bother her, but… The humans didn’t need the turtles, and there were fewer and fewer of the blue-tips by the year, and they were gentle creatures that only wished to spend their days nibbling on seagrass, hurting no one.  The struggling turtle looked at her, a silent plea in its luminous eye, before it resumed its fight against the rope.  Soon, it would need to rise to the surface to breathe, and if a human was watching, it would be hauled into the boat, never to swim the waters again.

 

Krolia chewed her lip.  It would be so easy to free creature.  It would mean very little to the human whose line she cut to be short a catch, and it would mean quite literally _everything_ to the turtle.  

 

She cut the line.

 

The turtle swam away rapidly, disappearing into the darker waters of the deeper ocean.  Krolia smiled.  She was glad she’d cut the rope.  It was what Heath would have done.

 

~*~*~

 

“What does it mean--to like a girl, and to give her a flower?” Krolia asked.  “You said it like it was a human ritual.”

 

This was one of things he liked so much about Krolia.  She was curious, and she asked questions even when she felt awkward or shy.  

 

“Means I’d like to court you,” Heath said, stretching out in the bottom of his boat and smiling up at the mermaid lulling above him.  “It means I think you’re wonderful and want to see if you think I’m wonderful, too, and if we might suit each other enough to get married.  I think you use the term ‘mates’.  You don’t need to feel pressured about it, though, and you can still keep the flower either way.” 

 

Krolia tapped her claws on the edge of the boat thoughtfully.  “What’s the next part of ritual?”

 

“You either tell me No and we keep on being friends as we have been, or you tell me Yes, and we court.”

 

“What happens during courting?” Krolia asked.  She looked more curious now than shy, and somehow Heath felt that meant her answer would be Yes.

 

“Depends on where the humans live, I suppose.  There are local customs, sometimes, like a specific dance or food or something of the sort.  Generally, folks meet each other’s families and eat together.  Our families aren’t likely to meet though, are they?” Heath asked with a wry smile.  

 

Krolia shook her head.  

 

“That’s fine.  We can make courting be whatever we feel like, then.  How does that sound?  Any mer things you’d like me to do?”

 

Krolia’s eyes gleamed with mischief.  “You must dive to the deepest part of the ocean and retrieve a white stone.  You must carve my name on one side and yours on the other, and then throw it as high as you can up the rocky shore.  If the stone breaks, you must start again.”

 

“Sounds like I’m not going to pass muster,” Heath said, shaking his head solemnly.  “It’s been a pleasure courting you, Miss Krolia.  I hope we can still be friends.”

 

The mermaid laughed and scooped up a handful of water to splash him with, and Heath yelped indignantly and pretended to be offended.

 

“ _Well_ then,” Heath said, straightening his clothes and making a show of pulling himself together, “if you were a human, trying to woo a pretty mermaid, what would you do?”

 

“Hmm,” the mermaid pondered, lips quirked up.  “I suppose I would try kissing her.”

 

Heath sat up straight.  “Would you now?”

 

Krolia had a high blush on her cheeks as she nodded, lips and eyes still playful.  

 

“Sounds like mighty fine advice to me,” Heath said.  

 

He placed his hands on either side of the mermaid, gripping the edge of the boat, and leaned forward slowly, searching her face for permission.  When they were a hair’s breadth apart, she pushed off and disappeared into the waves with a laugh.

 

Heath fell back on his heels, laughing as well.  “You’re a damn tease, pretty girl!” he called.  He chuckled as he pulled off his boots and shirt and dove in after her.

 

~*~*~

 

Krolia was hiding just below the surface, grinning up at the sky.  She was elated: Heath’s flower meant exactly what she’d hoped it did.  It didn’t matter at all that he was human and that their love story was destined to be short-lived--by Heath’s lifespan if nothing else.  All that mattered was the sound of his laughter and the shape of his smile.

 

Heath plunged into the water beside her, and Krolia was surprised to notice he’d removed some of his clothes.  Was that standard practice for kissing, or had he simply wished to keep them dry?  Either way, when she surfaced next to him, there was no cloth covering his broad chest, and Krolia found herself wanting to run her fingers across it.

 

Heath caught her face in his hands, and his thumb caressed her cheek.

 

“You’ll have to go easy on me, pretty girl.  I’m not a great fisherman, or I’d have landed you a long time ago,” he said fondly.

 

Krolia wanted to protest that she was _not_ a fish, and that it was a bit offensive to imply otherwise, but his lips were pressing against hers and it was hard to remember any reason she might have had to object.

 

They floated together, bobbing gently in the waves, trading slow and exploring kisses.  One of Heath’s hands cupped behind her head and the other migrated to her waist, and Krolia had to admit both ideas were improvements.  She mirrored him, in body and in kisses, and so she learned what he liked and decided she liked it, too. 

 

When he pulled back, he nuzzled her nose and then kissed down her jaw, his breath puffing over her gills and making her laugh.  

 

“That tickles,” she informed him, turning her neck.

 

“Oh?  Right here?” Heath asked, blowing directly over the slits.

 

Krolia dunked him.  

 

He surfaced, sputtering and grinning.  “Well, pretty girl, I suppose I deserved that,” he said, and Krolia loved the way the drops of seawater glistened in his eyelashes.  

 

“You are too, you know,” she said, tracing his face with her finger.  “You’re pretty.”

 

Heath blushed hard and grinned to match.  “Glad to hear it,” he said, and they kissed again.

 

~*~*~

 

Krolia recognized the feeling, despite never having felt it before.  There was the oddest twinge behind her slit and the sense of something opening, and she knew it was the desire for sex.  She’d first felt it when Heath kissed her, and she felt it again as she lay on the ocean floor, remembering their kisses over and over again.  There was a want inside her, and she didn’t know what to do with it.  Would it go away on its own, or should she find Heath and complete it?  Did Heath feel the same need, the same pull?  Was it too soon to find out?

 

All merfolk knew a few things about humans, such as their need for clothes, their endless collections of possessions, and their sadly short lives.  Humans could be deadly or harmless, and even the best of them could not swim for long.  They also had a lot of sex, and surely that meant Heath wanted sex with her.

 

Krolia decided the best thing to do was to ask him.  If he said no, that was fine, but perhaps they would kiss a little less until the answer was yes.  

 

Knowing that sex would be easier for them on land than in the water, Krolia opted to wait outside his home for him the next morning.  She called to him once he opened his door, and he stumbled in surprise but broke out in his customary grin.

 

“Good morning, pretty girl,” he said, walking down to his small dock.  “To what do I owe the honor of seeing you so early in the morning?”

 

“Good morning.  Do you want to have sex?” she asked.

 

Heath nearly fell off the pier.

 

“Oh, um, what?” he asked, blushing very hard as he sat down at the edge of the dock.  “Is that something you were wanting?”

 

“Yes, I’d like that,” Krolia nodded.  Heath’s legs were swinging off the pier and she grabbed his foot, teasing him a little.  “The kissing was very good, and I’m in love with you.”  She smiled up at him, and had to hold back a laugh as his face went through a number of expressions.

 

“Oh, my pretty girl, I love you, too,” he said fervently.  “We don’t have to sex, though, until you’re ready.  We only started courting yesterday.”

 

Krolia drooped.  “Oh.  Does that mean it’s too soon?”

 

Heath shook his head.  “Up to us to decide that.  You just surprised me, is all.”

 

Krolia smiled up at him.  She wanted to tug him into the water and kiss him, but they might as well start on the beach.  She settled for splashing him and heading to the shallows.

 

“Oh.  You mean _now_?” Heath asked, scrambling after her.

 

“Is that not alright?” Krolia asked, looking over her shoulder.

 

“It’s um, it’s fine,” Heath said, hopping off the side of the dock and onto the pebble-covered beach.  “Just didn’t expect you to be so eager.  Is this beach okay?  We can go to the sand one.”

 

Krolia was all but on the beach now and she paused.  Her lover was probably correct that the other beach would be more comfortable, and she should be considerate.  

 

“The sand one might be better,” she agreed reluctantly.  

 

Heath winked at her.  “I’ll race you there,” he said, and took off running.

 

~*~*~

 

Heath beat her, but she wasn't surprised.  He had a much shorter distance to go, after all, and he had a head start.  She liked this mischievous side of him, she decided.  Humans could be playful, or at least hers could.  He splashed out into the water to greet her and helped her up the beach.

 

“You’ll have to tell me how sex works for mers,” he said, brushing her hair from her face.  He knelt beside her and kissed her nose. “I expect it’s similar.  Most creatures do things in about the same way, from what I can tell, but I’ll admit I’m a little nervous.”  

 

“For starters, you should remove your clothes,” she said, eyes twinkling.  

 

Heath chuckled and pulled off his shirt.  She’d seen that much before and knew she liked it, but then it was the same as a merman’s chest, so that was to be expected.  He took his boots off next and she resisted the urge to tease him over his feet.  They were like flattened hands and did not look very useful, but they obviously had to be good for walking.  Then he took off his pants.

 

He must have been very aroused by her because his cock was already visible.  There was nearly an entire hand length of it outside his body, as (confusingly) were two hanging balls.  Curious, she reached out and touched one.

 

“What are these?” she asked.

 

“Sensitive,” Heath gasped.  “They’re, um, they’re my balls?  I take it mermen don’t have them?  They’re where the sperm comes from.”

 

Krolia hummed thoughtfully and rolled first one then the other ball in her hand.  They were a bit loose in their skin sack, and apparently it was pleasurable for them to be handled.   Heath’s cock filled with blood and grew a little larger.  It stuck out stiffly from his body, but no more of it appeared.  She massaged around his base but did not find a slit.

 

“Where is the rest?” she asked, confused again.  Was she not doing a good enough of job of pleasing her lover?  The rest of his cock should surely have been coaxed out by now!

 

“Wha…?” Heath slurred.  His eyes were dazed and his lids heavy and she liked that he had been biting back his noises--if his red-bitten lips were any sign.  “Rest of what?”

 

“Your penis,” she said.  “Where is the rest of it?  Do you need me to do something more?”

 

Heath was silent for a moment.

 

“I’m afraid that’s all there is to me, sweetheart,” he said.  He sounded apologetic and embarrassed and Krolia rushed to kiss him.

 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” she promised.  “A mer would have more, but I was only worried that you didn’t like how I touched you.”

 

Heath laughed weakly in relief.  “You scared me, pretty girl.  I’ll do whatever I can to make up for it, but that’s all I’ve got down there to offer.”

 

Krolia smoothed over his cock in a petting motion.  

 

“I like it,” she promised.  “It’s cute.”

 

Heath laughed again.  “That’s not the most complimentary way to praise a man’s member, but I think I know what you’re getting at.  Glad you like it.”  He grinned mischievously and nipped at her ear.  “It likes you.”

 

Krolia swatted him playfully, and he laughed and caught her in his arms, leaning down to kiss her properly.  They ended up on their sides, facing one another, kissing for a long time as their hands wandered.  Heath, she quickly discovered, very much liked to fondle her breasts.

 

“Those aren’t for sex,” she said eventually, “but you may touch them.”

 

“I think there’s a lot of land women that would agree with you,” Heath smiled wryly.  “Us land men can’t seem to help ourselves, though.  You’ve no idea how hard I’ve been trying to be a gentleman and not stare at them.  God, Krolia, your tits are lovely,” he said reverently, giving her breasts a light squeeze.   “Don’t think I can get enough of them.”  He squeezed again to emphasize his point and groaned a little.  “Fuck.  Can I, uh,” he licked his lips nervously, “can I suck on them?”

 

“There’s no milk,” Krolia said, tilting her head.   “We only do that for pups.”

 

Heath nodded, and he was blushing quite a bit again.  “Yes, for humans, too.  Still want to suck, though, if I may.”

 

Her human was silly and polite and shy, and Krolia couldn’t help smiling as she laid on her back, one hand behind his head to guide him to her.  

 

“Fuck,” he breathed, and then he flicked his tongue over her nipple.  He gave an appreciative groan and mouthed at her, pulling at her gently with his lips and teeth while massaging her other breast.  “God, I love your tits,” he gasped, tugging at her nipple and pinching it with his fingers.  “Best tits I’ve ever seen by a mile.”

 

Krolia was both amused and gratified by his attentions, and to her surprise she was beginning to like what he was doing.  Both her nipples were growing pert and sensitive, and the longer he sucked and mouthed at them, the harder they became.  It was bizarre, this desire not just for her lover but for this specific act, and while she couldn’t quite put from her mind the image of a suckling child, kneading hungrily at her and mewling for more, she liked having him want her like this.  He was far more insatiable than a newborn, and her nipples were now sensitive enough that the lapping of his tongue gave her pleasure.  She shifted her weight and gripped his head a little harder.

 

“Is it feeling good, pretty girl?” Heath asked.  

 

Krolia was embarrassed to find that her answer was yes.  “Are yours like that, too?” she asked, blushing. 

 

Heath grinned and stretched out on his back.  “You’re welcome to find out.”

 

Careful of her fangs, Krolia mouthed at the human’s nipples.  He sighed in a way that spoke of contentment, and she decided that was too quiet a noise.  She set up a rhythm of sucking and kneading, flicking her tongue every few seconds, and she was immensely satisfied by the increasing volume of Heath’s sounds.  

 

He gasped as he tugged off.  “That’s a little much,” he said.  “You’re a bit too good at that.”

 

Krolia smirked at him.  “I don’t mind if you finish now, you know,” she said.  “I want to pleasure you.”

 

Heath’s head thunked back on the sand and he cursed under his breath.  “You’re too good for me, pretty girl.  You’ll be the death of me.” 

 

“I hope not,” she said sincerely, “unless humans can die from sex.”

 

Heath laughed and shook his head and sat up again, his eyes twinkling.  “I don’t intend to be the first one to find out.  Now, why don’t you tell me what all you’d like me to do.  I want to pleasure you, too.”

 

“I don’t know,” Krolia said hesitantly.  “I’ve never done...this.”

 

“Alright,” Heath nodded.  Krolia was pleased he didn’t make a fuss over the matter, but she could tell he was surprised.  She understood.  Humans mated frequently, and all beasts followed their urges whenever they were most fertile.  Merfolk alone waited indefinitely. 

 

“So,” Heath continued, “how do you like it when you’re by yourself?”

 

“By myself?” Krolia asked, baffled.

 

“Do you not...touch yourself?  Down, um, down wherever it feels good for you?” Heath asked, looking a little lost.

 

“Humans masturbate,” Krolia said, realizing in that moment why Heath would be confused.  Very few sea creatures practiced the act by themselves, but it was not an unheard of concept.  She should have expected it, really, considering she knew that humans mated so often.  Their bodies probably craved it, with or without a partner.

 

“Ah, yes, um.  We do.  Most of us men do it rather frequently,” Heath confessed.  He was bright red and Krolia couldn’t help smiling.

 

“I do not mind.  You need not try to change yourself to be mer.  Do not be embarrassed to have humans habits,” Krolia said, gently stroking down his face.  He turned into her touch, and the trusting gesture made her heart flutter.  He was a foolish human, really, letting her be so close and intimate with him.  He didn’t even seem to _notice_ her claws, let alone be bothered by them.

 

“You do want to lie me though, don’t you?” he asked, a little shy now.  “I don’t mean to ask too much from you--especially not if this isn’t what mers do.”

 

“I know what sort of man I gave my heart to,” she said softly, still stroking his face.  “I would like to mate with you, no matter our differences.  I asked you, didn’t I?”

 

Heath closed his eyes and blew out a long breath.  “You sure did, pretty girl.  Still can’t believe I got this lucky.”  He opened his eyes, propped himself up, and planted a lingering kiss on her cheek.  “Tell me what you want me to do.”

 

Krolia guided his hand to her slit.  “This is where I open.  You’ve made me loosen with your kisses and touches, so it’s alright to press in now.”

 

Heath held his breath as he tentatively pressed in a single finger.  Krolia bit back laughter.  It was sweet of him to start so carefully, but her body would need quite a bit more than _that_.  

 

“Anywhere feel good?” he asked, sliding his finger slowly down the length of her slit.

 

“I’m pretty sure it’s all inside,” Krolia said as diplomatically as possible.

 

“Right, right.  Of course,” Heath muttered in embarrassment.  “That, uh, makes sense.  Human women have something right here--”

 

Krolia’s eyes went wide as Heath touched just under the edge at the top of her slit.

 

“Oh,” she said faintly.

 

Heath could not have looked more pleased with himself.

 

“Looks like we found our first nice spot for you,” he grinned.  “Bet we can find a few more if we go looking.”

 

The damn human refused to go further, however.  Instead, he teased at her slit--thankfully with more fingers--and only occasionally rubbed at the small nub he’d found.  Even worse, half the time he rubbed _next_ to it instead of on it.  Krolia had never known she had a strong sense of pride, but it was only after extended, pleasurable torture that she caved and begged for more.

 

Heath’s eyes gleamed wickedly and he poured out praises as he finally, finally, _finally_ gave her what she so desperately.  He was using both hands now, one tucking in deeper to massage at her walls while the other played relentlessly with the tiny, maddening nub.  

 

“Heath,” she gasped.  The pleasure was mounting and threatening to drag her along with it.  “Heath _please_.”

 

“Just feel it, sweetheart,” Heath murmured.  “It’s like a wave.  It’ll crest and wash over you and feel so, so good.  You’re doing perfect, pretty girl.  Just keep feeling it for me.”

 

Krolia nodded and latched onto his words.  It was so much.   It was more than she’d ever felt before and it was so, so much and so, so good.  She knew she was saying his name and he was kissing her jaw and cheeks and it was so, so, so _good,_  and--

 

Pleasure peaked and broke over her, and Krolia moaned and writhed on Heath’s hands.  He brought her down gently, slowly decreasing the attentions from his fingers and then slipped free, pulling her to his chest and kissing the top his head.  She lay there, dazed and happy on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. 

 

“I saw a sunset, once, when I was a boy, that turned the whole sky pink and orange.  It made the clouds gold and then yellow and then it all slowly turned to purple with silver stars.  I was only 10 and wasn't much for poetry, but I thought to myself, ‘This is it, Heath.  You’ll never seen anything more beautiful than this.’ And I was right,” he said, tracing the corner of her lips with his finger, “until I met you.”

 

Love blossomed painfully bright in her chest.  What could she possibly say to that? 

 

 _You are too gentle and too foolish_ , she thought, _but I am, too.  We could break so easily, and I should stay away, but all I want to is be nearer to you, always.  You should have been afraid of me when you first found me, but you were kind, and I don’t know what do with my love.  You are the moon and I am the tide.  I am caught by you.  If you call me, I will come._  

 

Unable to get the words past her lips, Krolia held him tighter, and returned the kisses he gave her.

 

~*~*~

 

Heath was a humble man, as a rule, but damned if he wasn't proud of the way he’d made the mermaid cry out.  Neither of them had known where they were headed, but he’d brought her there anyway, and he’d be damned again if he didn’t plan on taking her there any day she’d let him.  

 

Gorgeous.  Just gorgeous.  

 

They rolled against each for more kisses, and Heath found himself firmly reminded that he hadn’t gotten off yet, but he figured it was polite to wait.  The lady had never felt that sort of pleasure before.  She deserved some time to dwell in it.

 

At last, they pulled apart, and Krolia glanced down their bodies, her gaze lingering on his cock in a way that made him hungry, and then she looked back up into his eyes.  “You did not finish.  I wish to finish you.”

 

Heath gave her a crooked grin.  “Won’t take me long now.  You just do what you did when we started, and you’ll get me for sure.”

 

Krolia nodded solemnly, a determined look in her eyes and a shy blush on her cheeks, and she took his cock in her hands again.  It was not even a minute before she’d found how much he liked to have the edge of his head played with and that he liked it when she played with his balls.

 

“ _God_ that’s nice,” he breathed.  “Make a fist over me when you tug up and--yeesss, like that, perfect.”  He bucked his hips into her grasp and she pumped him, picking up the rhythm he liked almost instantly.  “Fuck, Krolia, how do you fucking know what to--shit!--that’s so good.” 

 

She was studying his face, finding all the instructions she needed in whatever was written there.  

 

“God _damn_ it, Krolia, that’s so fucking good.   _Fuck_ it’s good.  Yeah, just like that,” he gasped.  He hated swearing in front of a lady, but there was not a drop of extra blood in his brain, and his restraint was utterly gone.  “Oh god oh god oh god, sweetheart, that’s it.  Give me what I need, fuck, yes, like that--like _that_ \--yes, fuck, yes yes yes----”

 

He ducked his head into her shoulder as his orgasm ripped through him and he emptied himself in her hand.

 

“Sweet mother,” he gasped, when he could manage it.  “Pretty girl, I think you did almost kill me.”

 

Krolia’s answering laughter was as sweet as a kiss and as bright as the morning sun.

 

~*~*~

 

Along with Krolia’s return came the return of Heath’s fantastic luck with his fishing.  It was pronounced enough that some of the regulars at _The Broken Rudder_ commented on it, and Heath laughed it off, saying that after 20 years of practice, it was past time he started improving.  His answer was accepted, but Heath still thought it prudent to let Krolia know he didn’t need _quite_ that many lines filled.

 

“Ah,” she said, blushing a little.  “I suppose it would be wise not to draw attention.”  She fiddled with her hair and Heath grinned.

 

“You like looking after me, don’t you?” he said, leaning on the edge of his boat.  

 

“Yes,” she said simply.  

 

Heath laughed.  “Alright then.  I suppose I could do with some extra looking after anyway.  How ‘bout you fill up my lines and I don’t reset ‘em?” 

 

That was a comfortable arrangement and left extra time for the two of them to talk (and fuck), and Heath could only consider it to be the best summer of his life.  He had the prettiest girl in the world, and she was entirely his own, and with his lines filled he had no need to mend nets or crab pots.  Fewer chores was a blessing, and the company was topnotch.  

 

“Is there anything you want?” Heath asked one lazy afternoon as they stretched out on his beach.  He’d set up the shelter that he’d made for Krolia the summer before, and the shade was wonderful.

 

Krolia stirred.  They had just finished a round of lovemaking and she was curled up on his chest.

 

“What more could I want?” she asked sleepily.  

 

“I dunno,” Heath hummed, kissing the top of her head, “but if there’s anything, I want to give it to you.”

 

Krolia tapped her fingers on his stomach, thinking.  

 

“Turtles,” she said finally.  “I want you to promise to never fish for turtles.”

 

“Oh?” Heath asked curiously.  “Why is that?”

 

“They remind me of you,” she said.  She turned her head slightly to press a kiss to his chest.  “They’re gentle.  They just want to eat good food and be left alone.”

 

Heath laughed.  “I’m not sure of the complementary nature of the comparison, but I promise not to fish for turtles.  Besides,” he said, brushing his fingers through her thick hair, “they’re kind of cute.”

 

Krolia looked up at him with dancing eyes and a mischievous smile.  “They’re _very_ cute,” she confirmed, and she kissed his lips.

 

~*~*~

 

Krolia loved gentle kisses.  She liked how they warmed her to the tip of her tail and how she could feel Heath smile against her lips.  She could practically taste his love for her on his tongue and in the breathy sighs she coaxed from him.  She also loved how gentle kisses could turn into something more heated, something that made Heath gasp and pull her desperately closer.  These were the sort of kisses Heath was giving her now, and she was more than a little pleased with herself when he abruptly pushed her to her back and straddled her, breathing hard.  

 

“Is this okay?” he asked, pupils wide and lips red.  His cock was already hard again, something she gathered was a bit of a surprise for human male of his age.

 

“You asked me what I wanted,” she pointed out with a smile.  

 

Heath groaned and bent down to kiss her while his fingers wrapped in her hair.  His free hand worked to rub her open again, and she moaned against him. 

 

“Wanna be in you,” he mumbled.  

 

“Please,” she gasped.  

 

It pained Krolia a little to know that not their lovemaking would not result in pups.  Her chamber was too long and his cock too short for his seed to reach.  Perhaps, if she were to spread his spend on her fingers… But what then?  Would that last tight ring of muscle accept the seed of man who was not a mer?  Would her womb be able to carry a child that was partially human?  Someday, they might try it together, but for now she was content to let him rub his cock against that perfect spot near her slit.  It set them both to groaning without fail, and Heath always spoke the most arousing “filth”.

 

“God your tits look so good like this,” he said.  “Wanna fuck ‘em.  Wanna push ‘em together and fuck ‘em until I come on your chest and make them slick.”

 

For a moment Krolia was alarmed, thinking he might act on the impulse immediately, and she _needed_ him to keep fucking her exactly the way he was, but then he groaned and shoved in harder and she knew it was just his talk.  

 

(She loved his talk.  She especially loved how embarrassed he got afterward.)

 

“You feel so fucking good.  Wanna keep my cock in you all day, make you come and come and come until you cry with how good you feel. _Fuck_ you feel amazing.”

 

“Heath,” she moaned.  “Do it.  Give me more.”  She clutched his hips tightly, and if her claws cut him, he never cared--just said he liked it that she marked him up and made him hers.

 

He cried out her name as he came and, after shuddering through his waves of pleasure, he expertly worked his hand inside her.  He went so deep now, and it never failed to make her tremble as she watched his fist and wrist disappear.  He would pump in, almost up to the elbow, his free hand rubbing against the nub near her slit.  

 

“There you go, sweetheart,” he encouraged with a gasp.  “Fuck, can’t believe how much you can take from me.  Look at you.”

 

Krolia writhed in pleasure, eyes heavy as he pumped deep and fast.  She clenched on his forearm, body desperate for more, and Heath cursed praises and fucked her harder until she came, gasping and crying.   

 

“Beautiful,” he said in awe.  “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

 

“You, too,” she smiled, tugging him up to her for another kiss.  “You’re beautiful.”

 

~*~*~

 

They stayed together that day until late in the evening, talking a bit and napping some.  Heath lit a fire and roasted some fish that Krolia caught, and he said it would be better with butter and spices Krolia teased him for being so picky.  

 

“It’s not picky to prefer nice things.  I like you more than another girl in the world, after all,” he teased back, and Krolia didn’t know if she’d ever been happier, even as she thought to herself how wonderful it be to introduce him to her family, or even be introduced to his.

 

Later, after they had watched the sunset, she interrupted their calm silence with a question.  

 

“Do you wish I was human?” she asked.

 

Heath’s eyes went wide in surprise and then soft with fondness as he nodded.  “Or myself a merman, or us both as birds,” he smiled.  “Just like spending time with you is all--I’m not picky about the particulars.”

 

Krolia wondered if it was selfish, but she wanted to be human.  She wanted to show Heath the kelp forests that were in the cooler waters and the living rocks that were in the warmer places, but what she wanted most was to see the place where Heath grew up.  She was a little frightened of a place with no sea, but she wanted to see the fields and the trees and the poppies.  When she closed her eyes, she could almost picture what it would look like to be there, Heath smiling and laughing in the sun.  Would her skin and hair still be purple like his flowers, or would she look like him?  It would be easier for them in a lot of ways--not just to be nearer each other but to be more like each other.  She could understand more of him.  She could fit him better.

 

She wondered what sex would be like with legs. She could pull him closer.  They could become tangled as one person, and his cock would fit deeper inside her.  She blushed a little, thinking of his seed reaching her womb so easily.  If she were human, she could almost certainly carry his child.  He would be a good mate and a kind father.  He deserved to have the pups she could not give him.

 

“You went somewhere sad,” Heath said, kissing her temple.  “Come back.  I’m here and I’m happy you are, too.”

 

She shook her head and smiled at him, and then pushed him to the sand so she could lie on his chest.  She liked his skin.  It was dry but warm, like a smooth stone left out in the sun.  The rise and fall of breath in his chest reminded her of waves.  She liked that, too.  She wished she could fall asleep beside him every night and wake up next to him every morning.  And the wish spread in her mind, growing into a brave hope for something she might be able to give the two of them.

 

“I’m going to leave for a little while,” she told him, and he went a bit a stiff.

 

“Oh?  Where do you need to go, pretty girl?”

 

Krolia could hear the faint worry in his voice, so she sat up and kissed him.  “Not very far.  There’s something I need to try to do, but I shall come back to you,” she promised.

 

Heath relaxed again.  “Not like a winter trip, then.”

 

“No,” she smiled, “nothing like that.”

 

~*~*~

 

Heath hadn’t been at _The Broken Rudder_ in long enough that the crowd of regulars made a fuss when they greeted him.

 

“All that good luck and then you go out of your way to avoid us,” joked Red Tom.  “Just coming to shore to sell your catch and slip off.  I see how it is.”

 

“Who wouldn’t go out of their way to avoid McCullin?” Heath said with a wink, slapping the man on the shoulder as he sat down next to him.

 

McCullin frowned slightly and the rest of the crowd didn’t laugh as much as Heath would have expected, and he thought perhaps he’d been gone too long for that kind of joking.

 

“Yes, well, it’s good you’re back,” Henry McCullin said stiffly.  

 

The men exchanged some small talk, chatting about catches and the weather, as the usually did.  Heath couldn’t help but notice there was something off, though.  The men kept giving each other small, nervous glances.  Finally, Old Bill had had enough.

 

“Look, these young idiots don’t have the balls to tell you outright, but they think there’s something strange going on.  Anything you want to tell them?”

 

“Strange how?” Heath questioned.  A spark of worry danced in his gut and he ignored it.  Sure, his catches had been good and he hadn’t been lingering in town very often, but that didn’t add up to much.  They could suspect something was unusual, but there was no way they could know about _Krolia_.

 

“Something’s wrong with the luck in the water,” Gary said, and several men voiced agreement.  “Empty lines, cut cords.  Seems to be hitting everyone but you.”

 

Cut cords.  Heath suspected this was the work of Krolia, probably some misguided attempt to make sure her mate clearly had the most “success” or was the best provided for.  

 

“Can’t say as I’m fishing any different,” Heath shrugged.  That much was true, certainly. 

 

“We _were_ tempted to blame McCullin for making that mermaid angry, but that doesn’t explain why your lines are doing so well,” Red Tom said, sounding like he might have been trying to joke, but falling short.

 

“Well, I don’t fish for turtles,” Heath said as casually as possible, reaching in his pocket for his pipe.  

 

The gathering went quiet and several long glances were exchanged.  Old Bill gave him a hard look.

 

“No one mentioned turtles,” he said.

 

“Isn’t that what Henry was going for last year?  Thought you said something about turtles,” Heath shrugged, hands starting to sweat.  “Sounds to me like you pissed off a sea goddess.  Turtle goddess, maybe.”

 

It seemed a decent cover.  Fishermen were a superstitious lot, and this would hardly be the first time someone thought a string of bad luck was the work of an angry sea spirit.  But, Heath could feel that the crowd was not convinced.  Thing was, they had nothing to fear.  Krolia wasn't going to attack any of them, and she’d stop cutting lines if he asked her to.  It was all a bit ridiculous.  There would be no use in telling them that, however, and he sure as hell was won’t going to tell them about Krolia.  That would be a betrayal of her trust, and he wouldn’t break it for all the fish in the sea.

 

The mood growing worse, Heath decided to take his leave.

 

“Think I’ll be heading out then,” he said, standing up.  

 

The room stood up with him.

 

“Not so quick there, Lander,” Henry McCullin said darkly.  “We’ve got a theory to test.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winecup poppies are real! And the closest I could find to a Texan flower that is Krolia’s color. I might not be calling him Tex in this fic and there might not be a “real” Texas, but I still picture him as coming from inland Texas. I know shit all about the coastline there, btw. No idea what kind of fish, etc. I have been to Texas more than once, but it was practically entirely the middle. I’ve got family in Austin and Waco, so only been to the shore for a *little* bit. 
> 
>  
> 
> Sea turtles are precious creatures and must be protected at all costs. Have you ever seen videos of people freeing them from fishing line and trash and barnacles? Omg. Sweet little critters. Or big critters, sometimes. PRECIOUS.
> 
>  
> 
> I like Krolia in this fic. She hasn’t seen the horror of war, so I got to make her sweeter and more innocent. That, and don’t you love the idea of Krolia being all playful with Papa Kogane? I like them teasing each other. And having very loud sex. 
> 
>  
> 
> If we ignore his accent, Tex is a fucking stallion, and Krolia makes me significantly less straight. They are hot stuff.
> 
>  
> 
> It took me longer to get through this chapter than I expected, sorry. The first one was *so* fast and I expected it carry me along, lol. Oh well. Also, it was really weird to write straight smut again, lol!!!
> 
>  
> 
> I have FOUR open wips right now and it’s killing me. Killllling me.
> 
>  
> 
> I have found way too many good mermaid quotes. I’ll definitely have to write the Plance follow up to this story once I have the time, lol. GOTTA FINISH SOME WIPS omg. Killing me. Seriously.
> 
>  
> 
> At some point, Krolia has definitely given Heath an underwater bj. He was sitting in his boat when she came by and he jumped in the water to hug her, and she pulled down his pants and went to town. He had to hold onto the edge of the boat to stop himself from going under because it was so good and so unexpected and Krolia is totally nuts for giving him bjs ‘cause she knows he feels bad about being “small”, and meanwhile she thinks it’s adorable and loves that she can fit the whole thing in her mouth. 
> 
>  
> 
> And. Um. Sorry that next chapter will be sad. But it will still have more healing and closure for Krolia than canon did, damn them. >_< Still not over how weird it was that Axca came to the private graveside service and just stood there. So creepy.


	3. When Do Mermaids Die?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which sad things happen, and then there is a baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “She swore vengeance on all men with dark hearts.”
> 
> ― Lisa Papademetriou
> 
>  
> 
> “What makes a treasure a treasure," Marine replied, "is how rare a find it is, when you need it the most.”
> 
> ― Jodi Picoult
> 
>  
> 
> Trigger warning for some mild gore/harm.

It was a long swim to the witch’s cave, and Krolia missed Heath more with every determined sweep of her tail.  Soon, she would be at the cave. Soon, she would have her answer. Soon, she could return to her mate and lover.

 

Soon.

 

~*~*~

 

The good news was that their plan was doomed, Heath thought dully.  Krolia wouldn’t be back for another week or more. Hopefully he wouldn’t be dead by then.  There would be no one she could ask to find out what happened to him, and that broke his heart.

 

“Be over a lot sooner if you just admitted things,” Gary said with a hard sigh.

 

Heath’s throat was too dry to chuckle, but the corner of his lips twitched into a smile.  They’d been around and around this before, and no matter which fisherman was on guard over him, he had nothing to say but that they were wrong.

 

(Which they were, but not in a way they’d understand.)

 

The tide was low and the sea lapped at his ankles.  He was just lucky they’d tied him up high enough so his feet didn’t touch the sand--he’d have had crabs eating his toes, and he preferred to keep all his digits intact.  “Lucky”.  He wanted to laugh.  It would be hard to call himself lucky when he’d been tied to his dock for the past four days, shivering at night and sweating in the day, and all the while his limbs numb and aching.   At least they’d been kind enough to provide a bit of food and water from time to time.

 

Heath blinked his eyes against the bright reflection of the noonday sun.  His head hurt, but he couldn’t have said if it was from dehydration or the glare.  

 

He missed Krolia.

 

Precious liquid threatened to fall from the corner of his eyes.  He missed his pretty girl and her teasing laugh and curious questions.  He missed kissing her and making her sigh and moan. But, putting those things together, he really was lucky, wasn't he?  He had Krolia.  Even if he died on his pier, he had Krolia, and that was more than he ever could have wished for.

 

~*~*~

 

The witch was a sympathetic man--perhaps overly so.  Upon learning that her request was intended for her to be closer to her mate, he declared it to be intensely romantic and promised to have her “love potion” ready within three turns of the moon (providing she brought all needed supplies with her, this was a-business-not-a-charity, not that he wasn't a supporter of love of course, but these things need ingredients, and he wasn't made out of sand dollars and pearls).  

 

Krolia could barely contain her joy.  She thanked the witch profusely and sang as she swam, deep under the dancing waves, sure and swift back to her lover.  She wasn't sure if she should tell him right away or surprise him in three moons, but either way they would sleep in each others arms before winter.

 

~*~*~

 

“If we make him bleed, all we’ll get is sharks.”

 

Heath blinked awake.  It was night.  He wasn't sure how many days he’d been at the dock, but it was at least seven now, maybe eight.  Krolia might have made it to wherever she was going.  He hoped so.  He hoped she had found what she was looking for.

 

“Does it matter?” Gary sighed.  “We know it’s him.  Ever since we tied him up, no lines have been cut.  He made a deal with a sea goddess, or something similar.”

 

“Mermaid.  He made a deal with that mermaid,” Henry McCullin said firmly.  “Remember how he knew about the turtles?  He was right.  I _had_ been after a turtle when the mermaid attacked me.”

 

Heath shuddered in the cold and was ignored.  

 

“Whatever it is,” Red Tom said solemnly, “it hasn’t come for him.  I say we haul him up and send him back inland.  He never did us any harm, you know, and he’s hardly the first sailor to be spelled by a mermaid.”

 

“But if we let him go the mermaid will still be out there!” Henry protested.  “Cut him.  She’ll smell his blood and come to find him.”

 

No.  No, she won’t.  She’s too far away.

 

“And then what?” Gary asked skeptically.  “You really think we can kill her?”

 

“We can try,” Henry said grimly.

 

Stay away, sweet girl.  Stay away.

 

“What was that?  I think he’s talking--”

 

Stay away.

 

~*~*~

 

The sea was agitated.  It smelled of shark blood and something else, something faint and distant that turned her stomach.  She saw only one makko shark--a large thing, swimming away with blood in its wake, a familiar wound on its side that said the humans were hunting with spears.  Krolia frowned.  She was near Heath’s island now, and it bothered her to see makko sharks so close to shore.  They rarely came so close to humans without proper baiting, and she wondered if the humans had turned to sharks after failing to catch so many turtles.  

 

(But that did not explain the notes of something else in the water, something that tasted like home and fear all at once, something that reminded her of----)

 

Heath.  Heath’s blood was in the water.

 

With a broken cry, Krolia surged forward.  Where was he?  Where was Heath?  She surfaced but could not find his boat.  She shouted his name but heard nothing in response.  Had he made it back to his island, or was he already drowned and eaten?  

 

But the shark had been injured--had he gotten away?  Only--

 

More blood.  More blood in the water and it must have come from many sharks.  Perhaps there had been a frenzy that turned territorial but that didn’t explain why Heath’s blood was in the water, his blood his blood _his blood was in the water_.

 

Krolia heard them before she saw them--humans, arguing among themselves, standing on Heath’s dock.  She broke the surface again.

 

Heath.

 

Tied and beaten and bloodied, head limp and eyes shut.  Heath.  Kind and gentle, funny and beautiful Heath.  A man who wanted only to live in peace and give her his love.  This was her mate, and the humans had dared to lay their hands on him.

 

Fury rose in her throat and she screamed her rage toward the humans.  They stared at her in shock and then scrambled for their spears.  Heath’s head jerked up, and he saw her.  He shook his head.

 

He did not want her to come.  He wanted her to be safe.  She understood.  She would have asked the same.  But, by sun and by moon, by tides and by sky, by the fiery weight of her own soul, she could not and would not lie idle when her mate was in pain.  The gods themselves demanded protection of all who loved, and Krolia loved Heath.  She loved him fiercely, and she would not leave him.

 

Krolia dove deep, skimming the bottom as she raced toward shore.  The humans had the advantage in the shallows, but she could capsize their tiny rowboats with ease, ramming them from below and sending the humans overboard.  She dealt with the nearest boat in that manner and heard the panicked cries of the humans as they hit the water.  If she’d had time, she would have gladly torn them to shreds as she drowned them, but Heath needed her urgently.  She sped to the dock, fully aware of the humans still standing on the pier, spears in hand.

 

They were wise enough to wait until she was close, but they were unnerved by her rage and speed, and only one spear made contact--a glancing blow off her shoulder.  In her fury, she hardly felt it. She tucked herself under the dock, using it as a shield as she ripped away the ropes that bound her mate.  The humans were scrambling to recover, some thrashing in the water to right the boat she’d overturned and the others preparing to throw new spears.  It wasn't until she had Heath in her arms that she realized she could not dive again, and that the humans would be able to see where she took him.

 

“It’s okay, pretty girl,” Heath mumbled, his voice raspy.  “You can leave me.  I’ll explain it to them.  You can go.”

 

“I’m not leaving you,” she hissed.  

 

“I saw you again,” he said, his eyes barely open but still full of love.  “I’m okay now.”

 

“I’m not leaving you,” she repeated, tucking him to her chest.  It would be hard to swim while keeping his head above water and shielding his body with her own--who was to say if the humans would be content to only attack her?--but she would manage it.  She had to.

 

She hit the underside of the dock with her tail, cracking the wood and shaking the pier hard enough that several of the humans fell over.  She launched forward, churning the water with furious sweeps of her tail, and the spears failed to make their marks.

 

The humans did their best to follow her, but they were no match for the speed of the enraged mermaid, and she tucked her mate closer.  Half a dozen islands came to mind as hiding places, all of them poor, but she had to get Heath to shore.  She settled for a nearby option that had a deep cove which she could use if she needed to fight again, and she set out as fast as she could, all the while with Heath’s feeble breaths and soft apologies pressed to her shoulder.

 

“You’re so good to me, sweet girl.  You don’t need to worry anymore,” he whispered.

 

“Hush now.  Just rest,” she said firmly.  “We’ll be back on shore soon.”

 

Heath fell silent, but Krolia could not tell if he was resting or if he was simply too tired to talk more.  Either way, he didn’t speak again until she eased him through the shallows and onto the beach.  She laid him on the sand, the full extent of his injuries and suffering now on display.  He had cuts and bruises and his skin was peeling and cracked, and he smiled when he saw the hurt in her eyes.

 

“Don’t know what I did to deserve a pretty girl like you, but I’d do it all again in a heartbeat,” he said, his voice slow and labored.  She shook her head and whimpered, her hands shaking as she traced the wound on his face.  He turned and kissed her palm. “I love you,” he whispered.

 

“Please don’t die,” Krolia begged.  She held back a sob, but tears dripped down her cheeks regardless.

 

Heath smiled up at her, face full of tenderness and love and an apology.  “No need to cry for me, pretty girl,” he said softly. “Sorry for all the trouble.”

 

He died with her tears on his face and her kiss on his lips.

 

~*~*~

 

It was nonsensical and stupid, but she buried him on land.  She could not visit his grave easily, but the thought came clenching into her heart that he should not be underwater; he would drown.  She sobbed at it, knowing full well he would never breathe again, no matter where he was buried, but the thought persisted regardless.

 

She left her flower in his hands.  Mates should always be buried with something precious, and what could be more precious than a gift from Heath?

 

~*~*~

 

“We never should have killed him.”

 

The men of _The Broken Rudder_ were solemn and angry, and no matter how true the statement was, no one wanted to hear Red Tom say it.

 

“And what of it?” Henry McCullin snapped.  “It’s done.  And how do we know he’s dead anyway?  He was alive when the mermaid took him.”

 

“If he were alive, the lines wouldn’t break and the nets wouldn’t rip, and you know it,” Gary said darkly.  “My crab pots are empty and I haven’t had more than a minnow in a _week_ , McCullin.  We made the sea angry.”

 

“We made a woman angry, and that’s worse,” Red Tom said sourly.

 

“Oh shut up.  A mermaid isn’t a woman; it’s a monster,” Henry growled.

 

“The sea is a woman,” Old Bill said, “ _and_ it’s a monster.”

 

There were muttered agreements around the bar.  

 

“What does it matter?” someone asked.  “The Lander is dead and the sea blames us all.  What are we to do about it?  How can anyone appease the sea?”

 

“Blood for blood,” Old Bill said, matter of fact.  “Only problem is, who is to say how many men she’ll need before she’s satisfied?  I bet it’ll take more than McCullin.”

 

“You watch yourself, Bill,” Henry said.  “It’s one thing to sacrifice a lander. It’s another to take your own.”

 

The men exchanged glances.  

 

“It might be Henry she wants, you know,” someone from the back said to their neighbor.  “It did attack him first.”

 

“And it didn’t take fish until it met the Lander,” Henry protested, anger beginning to mix with fear.

 

“Might take more than Henry,” someone else said, ignoring Henry, “but it would at least want him, don’t you think?”

 

“Aye, that’s true,” Old Bill mused.

 

“That’s a dangerous path,” Red Tom said, nervously rubbing at his hands.  “She saw a lot of our faces. How many people are you willing to toss?  Isn’t that what you just said, Bill?”

 

Old Bill nodded.  “Aye, but she’ll at least want Henry.”

 

The men of _The Broken Rudder_ murmured their agreement, dark eyes glancing at their friend.

 

“You can’t do this,” Henry said.  “I have a wife. I have children!”

 

“So do I,” Gary growled.  “How many more nights can I take home nothing?  How many more days of empty nets can this _town_ survive?”

 

Chairs pushed back as men stood up.  

 

“You can’t do this!  It’s not my fault! You killed him, too!” he screamed.  

 

The sun rose the next morning over empty ropes around a pier post that had been filled with a sacrifice the night before.

 

~*~*~

 

The nets still came back ripped, the lines empty.  The only difference now was an unlucky man might pull up a hand or a leg or an ear, formerly owned by Henry McCullin, courtesy of the angry sea.

 

~*~*~

 

The humans had grown too clever.  They stayed on the shore now, fishing from there or digging for clams.  Krolia watched them from the safety of the waves, waiting for her chance to strike.  She would leave them for now, let them think she had been appeased.  Soon enough it would be the third turn of the moon.  First, she must gather the things the things she promised the witch, then she would take the potion and hunt them in their homes, killing them where they thought they were safest.  

 

Soon.

 

~*~*~

 

“Ah, I suppose congratulations are in order!”

 

Krolia could only stare her silent fury at the witch.  Her mate was dead, her grief was evident, and these were his first words to her?

 

“And why would you congratulate me?” she asked through bared teeth.

 

“Why, for the pup, of course!  When is it due?” the witch asked, bustling over to her and reaching as if to touch her stomach before pausing.  “Dear Neptune.  I’m sorry.  You didn’t know, did you?”

 

Krolia’s mind spun.  A pup?  Was it possible?   She glanced down at herself and placed a hand protectively over her stomach.  There was only the smallest hint of a bump, not enough to signify anything, but then she had eaten so little since Heath died--she ought to have lost weight, not gained.  

 

“I...I can’t be,” she said faintly.  “My mate is…”

 

“Human?  Well, stranger things have happened,” the witch said brightly.

 

“Dead,” Krolia corrected flatly.  “My mate is dead.”

 

“Oh, oh my dear girl,” the witch said softly.  “You poor thing.”

 

“Here’s the supplies you wanted,” Krolia said, ignoring his sympathy.  She wanted nothing but to leave with the potion as quickly as possibly.  “Is it ready?”

 

“It is,” the witch said hesitantly.  He took the supplies and looked at them silently.  “These will more than replenish my stores.  Thank you.”

 

“And my potion?” Krolia said.

 

The witch did not say anything for a time, busying himself as he put away the items Krolia had gathered for him.  She waited for him to finish before giving him a very pointed look.

 

“I don’t know that it would be wise of me to let you have it,” he said.  He met her eyes, and his face was full of gentle, earnest sorrow.  “Perhaps you might think on it more first.”

 

“My mate was murdered,” Krolia said shortly.  “I do not need time to think.”

 

The witch’s eyes widened.  What mer could let such a crime go unanswered?  He fetched the potion silently, but when she took it, he did not let go.

 

“Wait a little, at least,” he urged gently.  “The pup won’t survive a change.”

 

Krolia’s face was stone, but she nodded, and he let her go.

 

~*~*~

 

Krolia lay on the sandy ocean floor and kept her hand pressed over her stomach, thinking.  Her other hand clutched the potion tightly, and it weighed every bit as heavy on her mind as the thought of her potential pup.  The witch was most likely right--if she was pregnant, than she would certainly smell of it, and she couldn’t imagine that the merman would have lied to her about something so important.  But...how could she possibly go through with the pregnancy? She ached to her core to avenge her mate, and the death of a single human did not begin to slake her lust for blood.

 

She curled on her side.  She couldn’t do this.  She couldn’t bring a pup into the world and abandon it, as she would need to if she went ashore.  She could leave it with her brothers, perhaps, but the loss of Heath was so raw that she couldn’t bare to explain it to them, much less explain that he had been human.

 

Human.  What if the pup was human, or part human?  Krolia considered this.  If the child were human, she would take it to shore.  She would raise it while herself a human and perhaps they would walk deep into the land, find the fields of poppies that Heath had loved and the family he had left.  She could show them the pup, say “This is the proof your son was alive and that he loved me.”  Maybe they would take the child while she got their justice.  Maybe she would wait until the child was grown, and they would take their justice together.

 

She rubbed her thumb absentmindedly over her stomach.  It would be easily, perhaps, if the child was human--at least for her revenge.  But what of after?  The potion could be undone and allow her to return to the sea, but it did not account for a child.  She could ask the witch for a second one, maybe, just in case…

 

Or, she could take the potion now and lose the pup.  

 

Krolia bit back a whimper.  She could lose her own child when it was a still a concept, but the reality was that there was a tiny creature was in her womb, a small being that desperately needed her, and that creature was knit together by her and by Heath.  She could not abandon even the smallest piece of Heath.

 

How ironic to have a pup growing in her now that her mate was dead!  She had longed for the ability to give him a family, and here he had given her one instead.  It was a precious, immeasurable burden. She could not even fight the humans from the safety of the ocean anymore, for any injury that came to her could harm her child.

 

Her child.  A fierce instinct welled up in her chest.  Her child.   _Hers_.   Her mate had been taken from her, but the humans could never have this.  They killed all things gentle and good, but not this.  She was pregnant with Heath’s child, and that was a miracle she would protect, no matter the cost.

 

~*~*~

 

Krolia kept the potion.  If her pup was human, then she would live with it on the shore.  If it wasn't, then perhaps one day the potion would prove useful anyway.   Once the child was old enough to take care of itself, she could come back and get her justice then.  She took one final sweep of the bays and shores that the humans of Heath’s villages fished around.  She destroyed every net and trap she found, but she left the boats alone, not wishing to risk the danger of the surface.  A small part of her was grimly satisfied that they had not put out bait for turtles in her absence.

 

She visited Heath’s island.  The shack was quiet, of course, and Krolia darkly suspected that the humans had looted it, particularly since his boat was gone.  If she’d had the ability to produce fire, she would have crawled up the beach--danger be damned--and burned everything down, even to the grasses that covered the island.  No life should live where his could not.

 

She brushed aside the thought.  That wasn't Heath’s way.  Instead, she hoped that a few crabs or gulls might find shelter in his home.  He would have liked that.

 

Before leaving, she gathered what rope and weeds she could find and tied them to his dock, covering the place he had once hung with the knots he had taught her.  It was the only tribute she could think to leave.

 

As her final stop, Krolia visited Heath’s grave.  She did not know if humans had ghosts, but she spoke to him anyway.  She told him they were going to have a child.  She told him that she missed him.  

 

And then she left, a potion in her hand and a child in her belly, and she did not let herself look back.

 

~*~*~

 

Krolia spent her months alone, wandering the oceans.  Mostly she stayed away from the shore, it being too painful a reminder of her dead lover and her unfinished revenge.   _Someday_ , she thought to herself, _someday_.

 

When at last her swollen belly began to cramp, she found a beach to birth on.  It was not the way of mers--giving birth on land--but with the very real possibility of a human child, Krolia was not willing to risk birthing in the sea, no matter how miserable she became.  And dear Neptune, she was miserable.

 

Without the buoyancy of water, Krolia’s aching muscles had no relief.  She hadn’t even been any to find a sandy beach, so she had to be content with lying on rocks.  The wind was sharp and chafed her, and her only piece of luck was that it wasn't sunny. If the sky was kind, perhaps it would rain and soothe her painful skin.  But, far worse than physical discomfort was her loneliness.

 

She shouldn’t be here.  She shouldn’t be giving birth alone, unguarded, exposed on a beach.  She longed to be safe in a cave, her brothers nearby, her mate beside her… Another painful spasm wracked her body and she cried out.  

 

“Please, Heath,” she begged the air.  “Please.  I don’t want to do this without you.”

 

But of course he could not come to her, and she fought her pain alone, tears of grief mingling with those brought from labor.  

 

At last, the cries of her pup broke the air.  It was perfect.  Krolia was in awe at the beautiful tail, so dark as to be near black until it flashed bright red as the scales turned.  She cleaned its face with her hand, inspecting its neck and finding gills.  Her child was fully mer.  She could return to the sea.

 

She was on the shore.  This was where the land, the sky, and the sea all met.  There was no other place where more gods could hear her, and somehow she knew--they would be kind.  

 

“Someday, let me be born again with him.  We can be mer, or human, or birds.  Anything is fine, only let us be together.  I do not want us to be separated by the ocean again.  And please, next time, let me have more days to love him.”

 

The gods were silent, but her heart was calm.  The baby blinked up at her, cooed, and grabbed a tiny fistful of her hair.  

 

“Hello, little pup,” she said softly.  “You won’t get to meet him, but you have a father whose name is Heath, and he was a bit of an idiot.  He fell in love with me, you see.  That was not a very smart thing to do.”

 

The baby giggled.

 

“I wasn't very smart either.  I loved him, too.  I hope you’ll be a little be smarter than we were, or at least a little luckier.”

 

She cradled the pup to her breast and investigated it while it began to nurse.  A boy.

 

“Keith,” she smiled.  “Your name is Keith, and I think it’s time to take you home.”

 

Krolia carefully brought the two of them back to the ocean.  She sank into the water and turned her course toward her brothers and their home cave, Heath’s last gift nestled safe in her arms.

 

 

**Epilogue**

Keith was the most precious thing Heath could have given her.  She had a place to pour her love, rather than having it sour in her gut and turn to grief.  The tiny pup grew fast into a curious and capable mer, and while she worried for him as all mothers do, she knew he could protect himself, and that was enough.  She was tempted from time to time to keep him close and safe, but he had inherited her wandering spirit, and she knew she could not deprive him of his adventures when it had been her own that had lead to his conception in the first place.  She pressed down her instinct to protect and let him live as the currents took him.

 

She did not seek the rest of her revenge.  Heath would have found one death more than enough compensation for his own, after all, and humans lived such short lives, that by the time Keith was fully grown, those responsible for Heath’s death would have been old and feeble.  She let go of her plan for revenge, but never her desire for it.  It would haunt her quietly for the rest of her life.

 

It did not surprise her to learn her son had fallen in love with a human, and it soothed her heart to meet the man in question.  He was gentle, just like Heath.  She did not mourn the separation from her son when he left her for the shore.  He was luckier in love than she had been, and what more could a mother hope for than that?  Her child was happy.  It was enough.

 

Some days she remembered warm hands and smiling lips and some nights she dreamed of poppies, and one night when she closed her eyes, she did not open them again.

 

“Hello, pretty girl,” a voice called to her.  “I was getting a little worried you might live forever, you know, but I didn’t mind the waiting.  Hope it’s alright I hung around a bit.  Wanted us to start the next part together.”

 

And if they both had feet or fins or wings, it didn’t matter at all.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried while writing this, and what’s really sad is that this is so much happier than what happened in Voltron. Krolia gets to raise her kid! In canon, she learns the person she left to protect died and their son was all alone. She made the hardest decision of her life and left and then lost her lover anyway, and Keith was essentially an orphan. That SUCKS. So I’m….less mean. Please forgive me??? ;^;
> 
> The reason Heath doesn’t try to explain anything to the fishermen is that he doesn’t want to tell them Krolia is real. He kinda assumes he’ll die before she gets back, and he figures they won’t look for her if he’s dead. It’s his way of protecting her.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING for gross and possibly inaccurate science and gory body stuff!!! Heath would have a hella nasty case of trench foot, what with keeping his feet in water that long. We’re talking toe rot, which means fish nibbling. That thing about the crabs? Yeah, they used to kill people that way--tie them to a pole where the crabs could eat their feet and then they’d die of infection. Or weather exposure. Probably dehydration first, actually, but with the grossness of things eating your feet. UGH. Anyway. I have him die of more like...slow blood loss and exposure, not the grosser stuff. The gross stuff is what the science would have done, tbh, but there’s mermaids here, so why be realistic? I just wanted him tied somewhere that Krolia could save him, you know? But uh...the reality is, he would have died before she got there. But I have Reasons (sorta) why it took Krolia so long to get to the witch and back--my idea of where Keith/Shiro live versus where Heath lives versus Mr. Witch, so it would take a while. The end.
> 
> Coran is the witch, by the way!
> 
> I kinda feel bad that I didn’t have Krolia get her full revenge, but in my original version of the story, she didn’t get any...so, yay me? I kinda think canon Krolia would never completely get over Tex/Heath’s death. All she ever wanted to do was protect him, you know? JUST LIKE KEITH AND SHIRO. HHHMMMM. 
> 
> (Fuck you, DreamWorks.)
> 
> I finished this in time for mermay!!! *confetti*
> 
> Super duper looking forward to writing The Boys again. I’ve missed them. ;^; An entire month without writing them omg. That’s even worse than post S8, except of course I’m not in Constand, Crippling Depression like I was post S8. 
> 
> (Fuck you, DreamWorks.)
> 
> I'm *pretty* sure the next thing I'll be working on is the sugar daddy AU again. We'll see.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for what will be a sad story. :( I mean, it’s still bittersweet, right? So not unbearable? Fuck you, Voltron, for killing ten million characters. ;^;
> 
>  
> 
> Cuttlefish don’t have spines, btw. They do have a sort of shell, though, where you would expect a spine to be. There are also hella cute. I wasn't sure what Krolia would call it. Humans call them bones (even though they aren’t) and give them to their pet birds to nibble. My parakeets LOVED them. They’re good for their beaks! 
> 
>  
> 
> Have y'all ever been on a beach with clams? It's *really* fun to run on the sand watch all the little clam geysers go off.
> 
>    
> It was soooo weird writing characters other than Shiro and Keith (or Lance and Pidge). I know those characters so well by now. XD I thought it would be harder to make a change! Ended up being fairly easy, other than making Heath/Tex a character when I didn’t have much to go on.
> 
>  
> 
> Speaking of Heath/Tex: I know most people call him Tex, but since Texas doesn’t exist in this AU, I went with Heath. Plus, this way Krolia is naming their son after him, which is sweet. And sad.
> 
>  
> 
> I made Krolia an environmentalist. She cares about the Universe, so why not the ocean, ya know? And Tex seems really laid back in the show ‘cause he finds an alien and is like “Howdy miss, lemme save ya” so that’s where his character comes from, lol. Super chill, quiet unless in the right company, and hella into Krolia’s tits. That’s it. That’s who he is. My version of him in canon is that he eats pussy like a champ. He greets Krolia with a peck on the check “Hello, my lovely” and then gives her breasts an affectionate squeeze “Hi, girls” and then drops down and eats like it’s his last meal. 
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway.
> 
>  
> 
> It’s mermay!!! So I had to write a mer story!!! I’m so sorry it’s not the Plance chapter/follow up mini-fic, but I gotta go where the muse leads me. I will be finishing this story before getting back to my other WIPS 'cause it's mermay.
> 
>  
> 
> That's it. That's the news.


End file.
